Eventful Woman

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2011-11-17T15:53:00.002+13:00

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Award-winning wine maker Peter Weis

2011-11-13T15:06:00.009+13:00

Eventful Woman and Peter Weis with his award winning wines (All text and photos are copyright to Eventful Woman, 2011)

This is the third interview in a series of award-winning wine makers in Zell an der Mosel.

The first interview was with Herr Albert Kallfelz and the second was with Herr Stephan Fischer. Both of these interviews required a translator.

For my third interview I tracked down Herr Peter Weis who not only makes award-winning wines, but who also speaks excellent English. They're a talented bunch of people in Zell an der Mosel.

Interview with Herr Peter Weis

(Note: The vineyard has his father's name - Franz Josef Weis)

Shop front of Franz Josef Weis winery

Herr Peter Weis was awarded three gold and two silver medals for the five wines he submitted this year to the Rhineland Pfalz Landwirtschaft Kammer (the Chamber of Agriculture for the Rhineland Palatinate area). His awards were all for Riesling wine, which is famous in the Mosel area and, as such, there was a lot of stiff competition.

Like the other wine makers I interviewed, Herr Weis loves the Riesling grape. He describes it as very versatile as it can produce dry to very sweet wine. He loves the anticipation of the first taste of each year's vintage as it can vary so much. In 2003, he said that he had a wine that tasted like pineapples.

The steep slopes of the FJ Weis vineyard

Clearly, no pineapples grow this far north in Germany. However, the slanted hillsides alongside of the Mosel River change the sun's angle to the land, making it more like the tropics. This means lots of sun on the area's vineyards. Herr Weis says, "If you want to become brown in summer then I tell people to come and stand on our steep slopes."

The wine's taste and aroma changes due to each season's weather conditions and also because of the minerals the soil. If there's a lot of rain the grapes pick up more minerals [from the slate on top of the soil] and that determines taste much more than sunshine.

While there are advantages with the sun's angle, there are some disadvantages with the sharp slant of the vineyards. Mechanisation is almost impossible and a lot of manual labour is needed to tend and harvest the grapes, which raises the cost of the wine when compared with that grown in flatter areas.

Herr Weis is the ultimate positive thinker. He says, "For me there are no disadvantages, I love my vineyards."

Herr Weis pruning his grapes.
(Photo from FJ Weis website)

Like other wine makers in the area, he has trained his vines onto individual wooden stakes (called Einzelpfahlerziehung) instead of the more traditional wires. This allows him and his workers to walk horizontally across the sometimes perilous slopes, making the work safer and less arduous. The stakes (instead of wires) also enable him to use a monorail trolley up and down his slopes, instead of having to carry everything by hand.

Herr Weis on the monorail trolley in his steep vineyard
(Photo from FJ Weis website)

He ensures that only the best grapes are picked at harvest time. He has hired the same workers every year for the last 25 years, and he provides good accommodation for them and great food. He says, "They know the work and they know what to do. Over the years, they have become friends."

Here's a summary of some of the questions I asked Herr Weis:

How long have you or your family owned this vineyard?

1710. While my family have made wine since then, I am only the 3rd generation who has worked full-time in this career. I have been a winemaker all of my [adult] life. I started to learn after - I think it is "A" level in your school system - when I was 19. I am 45 now.

How big is your vineyard?

7 hectares and 95% of them are very steep. The main grape variety is Riesling, our area is well known for this. I have a little bit of Rivaner (which is Müller-Thurgau) and in red grape I have Spät Burgunder (Pinot Noir) and also Dornfelder which is a German grape.

Barrels of wine in the cellar

What is the age of the vines?

The youngest is half a hectare and was only planted this year. The oldest were planted in the 1970s so they are around 30 - 40 years old. My family has constantly replaced the vines [on a rotation basis] over the years since the 1700's.

How many bottles of wine do you produce per year?

It depends on the weather. The Riesling is a small grape and is grown on steep hillsides so I am happy if I get around 50,000 litres [around 66,000 x 750ml bottles].

How did you learn wine making?

I learned at a [wine making] school. When I was there it was in Bullay, just 5 km from here. It is now in Bernkastel [around 25 km away].

Corks versus caps

I use both but mainly caps. It's a very good cap with a tin sealing inside and the manufacturers promise that the wine will last 10 - 12 years. The manufacturers have no experience on whether the caps will be effective longer term, but hopefully we will get longer storage times in future.

I use synthetic corks, but just for wines that I tell my customers to drink within 5 years. After that time, the synthetic cork becomes weak and lets oxygen into the bottle.

I use natural cork for wines I want to store for a long time. I spend a lot of money for these corks in the hope they are good and I put them on wines which should keep for 10, 20 or even 30 years.

If you like to age a wine then it should be a sweet Riesling. When the dry ones become old nobody likes them. If it is sweet the wine becomes more and more like a liqueur, which is very nice in tiny sips.

Philosophy

Aim for quality, not quantity. Think long term, not just one year. Share your knowledge with younger growers and that way everyone can learn more.

While I want to pass the vineyard onto the next generation, I will never be a pensioner. I love what I do.

Advice for new wine makers:

You need passion and to love your work because the work is rather hard. When the result is perfect ... everything is perfect.

Note of thanks:

I am very grateful to Herr Peter Weis who took time out of his busy harvest schedule to talk to me and answer my questions.

The interview in action

Thanks also to my husband, TH, for taking the great photos. (Note: two of the photos were from the F J Weis website http://www.weingut-fjweis.de)

All of TH's photos and text are copyright to Eventful Woman, 2011

Find out more about:

Zell an der Mosel and the area (click on the Union Jack flag to get the page into English).
Peter Weis wines (trading as F J Weis) http://www.weingut-fjweis.de Note: The website is only available in German but "Google Translate" is easy to use for a quick translation www.translate.google.co.nz
Interview with the first two wine makers in this series, Herr Albert Kallfelz and Herr Stephan Fischer
My Europe Base, an ideal place to stay to explore Zell an der Mosel. It is only a few minutes walk from the Franz Josef Weis vineyard and has studio, one-bedroom or two-bedroom apartments available for either a couple of days or longer term.

Herr Peter Weis is one of the few winemakers in Zell an der Mosel who speaks fluent English (as well as German, of course)

"Gidday Trev" to Trier

2011-11-12T16:40:00.009+13:00

Roman Porta Nigra (180 AD) and icon of Trier (All text and photographs copyright to Eventful Woman, 2011)

"You'll like this place. It's so old you'll feel positively youthful," TH said confidently. Yeah, right and thanks Sweetheart. Everyone in Germany is 'a babe in arms' when compared with Trier, as it is the country's oldest town. Its history stretches back into the mists of time, supposedly as far as 2000 BC.

Trier's recorded history starts when the Romans conquered Celtic Treveri around 53 BC. Its strategic location was recognised by Emperor Augustus and he founded a city there around 16 BC, calling it Augusta Treverorum (The city of the Emperor Augustus in the land of the Treveri).

Kaiserthermen (Imperial Baths) early 4th Century

The Romans introduced new kinds of buildings and lifestyles - hot spring baths, amphitheatres, villas, temples and wine making. They planted the first grapes along the Mosel's steep riversides, although the mighty Riesling grape that has made Mosel wines famous, didn't arrive until the early 1400's.

Roman amphitheatre, dating from around 100 AD

Over many centuries and the waning of the Roman Empire, the city's name shortened from Augusta Treverorum to Trier. It was lucky it didn't become Trevor. As such, its citizens are spared the indignity of hordes of New Zealanders calling out "Gidday Trev" when they arrive.

However, other hordes have made their mark on the city over last two millennia: Franks, Suebs (a Germanic tribe), Huns, Vandals, Normans, French, Spanish and Prussians, many of whom destroyed vast chunks of the place. With that and the bombing in World War 2 it is remarkable that there's anything historic left.

The Porta Nigra

Fortunately, the Roman legacy lives on including in the iconic emblem of the city, The Porta Nigra (The Black Gate). There are also magnificent monuments, art, statues and churches, some of which date back to when Christianity overtook Paganism under Constantine the Great (in the 4th Century).

While there might be bigger and more impressive historic Roman sites in Italy, Greece and Turkey, what is fascinating in Trier is the juxtaposition of different cultures. For instance, in Turkey you won't find whole streets of quaint half-timbered houses side-by-side with Roman archaeological remains along with Gothic and Rococo buildings.

The Rococo-styled Electoral Palais (begun in the 17th C) with the Roman Constantine Basilica (early 4th C) behind it

The State Museum (Rheinisches Landesmuseum) is now one of Germany's important archaeological museums, with 7,000 square metres of exhibition rooms. If that's too big a place for the time you have available, I recommend the compact Municipal Museum Simeonstift (located by the Porta Nigra) as an alternative. For just a few Euros you can see several of the city's smaller treasures on display (rather than the copies located in the town's squares) and listen to the excellent historical commentary via the audio guide (which is available in many different languages).

Trier Cathedral (Dom) started as Roman (in the 4th C) but was rebuilt in newer styles over the centuries. The early Gothic (1235 - 1260) Church of Our Lady (Liebfrauenkirche) is next door (on the right)

The really big historic sites (such as the churches, the Roman Bridge, amphitheatre and bath houses) are not in a compact area. You'll need a fit pair of legs to see them all or you could take a bus tour. Also check out the TrierCard, which costs 9 Euros, but allows you to use the inner city's bus transport for free and also gives discounts on various tourist sites and activities.

The Hauptmarkt

In the Hauptmarkt

Don't forget to take some time out to sit in the Hauptmarkt (the historic main market square) to absorb the surroundings and enjoy a coffee with at least one slice of Germany's many fabulous cakes (kuchen).

Important Tip: Avoid visiting Trier on a Monday, when several museums are closed.

(More of TH's photos are further below)

Find out more

Trier's tourist Information, sights and sites
The TrierCard (Free inner-city bus travel and also discounts to museums, tours and for eats and drinks).
Municipal Museum Simeonstift (compact when compared with the State Museum, but has plenty to see and has audio guides available in many different languages.)
The history of Trier
The State Museum in Trier (Rheinisches Landesmuseum) This website is all in German, but you can use Google Translate to read chunks of text when you cut and paste these from the museum's site.
Top wine makers on The Mosel: Stephan Fischer and Albert Kallfelz

Getting to Trier from Zell an der Mosel:

Drive: meander on the lovely, winding road by the Mosel River.
Bus: Zell's tourism information office can arrange a bus tour from Zell for 18 Euros per person, which includes a tour (only in German) when you get to Trier. The bus ride is up to 2 hours each way, depending on how many stops it has to make to let other tourists on and off the bus. However, it you don't have a car it is a good way to travel the road by the Mosel River.
Train: Catch the train from Bullay, which is a much shorter journey than by road because it has more of a straight-line route through many tunnels. It will only take around 30 minutes to get to Trier, and will cost 23 Euros for 2 people. Then, you can buy tickets for an English-speaking bus tour of Trier (usually around 12 noon) at the Trier Information Office. The bus tour in English will cost around 7 Euros per person.

Reminder: Avoid visiting Trier on a Monday, when several museums are closed.

Accommodation:

Want a base in Europe where you explore the Mosel River area? Want to explore further afield and have a place to dump heavy luggage or come and go as required?

Eventful Woman recommends "My Europe Base", which has studio, 1-bedroom and 2-bedroom apartments. Stay for a couple of days or for a few weeks or more. Click here to check it out.

More of TH's photos of Trier: (All text and photographs are copyright to Eventful Woman, 2011)

Ceiling in the Trier Cathedral (Dom)

Wonderful sign for the Spielzeug (Toy) Museum

I wasn't the only cute Kiwi in the toy museum

One of Eventful Woman's favourite animals (as well as the gorgeous pigs)

Master Wine Maker - Stephan Fischer

2011-11-04T04:37:00.010+13:00

Herr Stephan Fischer in his vineyard (All photos and text copyright to Eventful Woman, 2011)

I have interviewed three award-winning wine makers while I have been in Zell an der Mosel. I will write more about them when I am back home in New Zealand, but because each wine maker was so amazing I am releasing an early 'sneak preview' for readers of my website.

The first interview was with Herr Albert Kallfelz.

Here's the second interview in the series:

Herr Stephan Fischer

Stephan Fischer's specialty is Mosel Riesling Sekt (Sekt is known in New Zealand as méthode traditionnelle or méthode champenoise or sparkling wine) for which he has won several gold medals. He has also been awarded the overall prize for the best Riesling Sekt for Rhineland Pfalz (Rhineland Palatinate province) three times in the last 10 years.

In addition, he makes exceptionally good dry (trocken) and sweet Riesling wine. While his vineyard has made Riesling wine for several generations, he has only been making sparkling wine since 1984.

Herr Fischer's steep vineyards

He grows mainly Riesling grapes followed by white, red and blue burgundy grapes. Like other vineyards in Zell an der Mosel, his grapevines grow on steep hills. The Mosel is in the north of the globe and this means that land is usually at a low angle to the sun. However, the steep sides of the vineyards in Zell an der Mosel changes the land's angle [to the sun] to match what it is in the tropics.

Examining the grapes prior to harvest

As well as the dizzying steepness of his vineyard, hard work, the need to keep a close eye on the weather and the condition of the grapes, Herr Fischer also attributes his success to the small chunks of slate that are scattered across his land.

This slate is up to 240 million years old and has two big advantages for wine makers:

It absorbs heat from the sun during the day, which it then releases overnight to warm the vines and reduce the impact of frost.
It contains minerals such as magnesium and potassium. These leach out of the slate when it rains, which enriches the ground.

Here's a summary of some of the questions I asked Herr Fischer:

Interview in action

How long have you or your family owned this vineyard?

I am the 10th generation owner of this vineyard.

How big is your vineyard?

3.5 hectares.

What is the age of the vines?

The oldest are 60 years old.

How many bottles of wine do you produce per year?

Between 15,000 to 25,000 bottles per year (depending on nature and the weather).

In the cellars and wine making area

Corks versus caps?

I have used aluminium caps for last 15 years, but I still use corks for sweet and red wine. The price of corks went up by 10% per year, every year (due to increasing demand) but the quality went down by 10% per year. So I had to make a decision to change but it wasn't hard. Aluminium caps are brilliant - clean, hygienic, no oxygen can get through and there's no spoilage.

Philosophy

In Germany, Riesling is the Queen of the white wine. The King of the red is spätburgunder (pinot noir). For me, Riesling is:

tradition
passion
my number one.

Advice for new wine makers:

You need to accept that nature guides the wine process. The aromas are built in the vineyard not in the cellar. You can't build aromas in the cellar; they must be in the grape to start with.

Stephan Fischer wines tasted:

2009 Mosel Riesling Sekt, gold medal. This is the best have ever tasted AND better than most champagnes that I have tasted.
2010 Riesling Trocken (dry) - citrus, gooseberry, very fresh
2010 Riesling Halbtrocken (medium dry) - more peachy, less citrus, smooth, clean, fresh
2009 Riesling (Sweet) - very sweet but not sickly-sweet. Very smooth, almost liqueur-like.

Stephan Fischer and his award-winnng bottles of Riesling

All photos and text copyright to Eventful Woman, 2011

Find out more about:

Zell an der Mosel and the area (click on the Union Jack flag to get the page into English).
Stephan Fischer wines www.weingut-stephan-fischer.de (Note: The website is only available in German but "Google Translate" is easy to use for a quick translation www.translate.google.co.nz
Interview with the first wine maker in this series, Herr Albert Kallfelz
My Europe Base, where I have been very comfortable for the last 4 weeks in Zell an der Mosel. Studio, one-bedroom or two-bedroom apartments available for either a couple of days or longer term.

This interview required a translator. I am very grateful and appreciative to Jürgen Richter for his work as my translator and also to Zell an der Mosel's mayor (Herr Hans Schwarz) and the town council who arranged my interview with Herr Fischer.

Thanks to my husband, TH, for taking great photos and also helping me with the translation as I was writing this piece up.

Last, but certainly not least, my thanks to Stephan Fischer who took time out of his busy harvest schedule to talk to me and to answer my questions.

All photos and text copyright to Eventful Woman, 2011

Eventful Burg Arras

2011-11-03T02:14:00.013+13:00

The entrance to Burg Arras (All text and photos copyright to Eventful Woman)

The tourist pamphlet said all the right things to get the attention of any Eventful Person: The eventful history of Arras Castle (Burg Arras) is closely linked with the eventful German history from the beginning Roman period up to the end of the Middle Ages.

View of castle from car park
(after the mist cleared in the afternoon)

Burg Arras is perched on a steep, rocky hill above Alf and around 10 km from Zell an der Mosel. Fortunately, we had the use of a friend's car, so walking up hill was limited to just the distance from the castle's car park. Of course, for those who like to walk a lot, Burg Arras is on the walking trail from Alf to Reil and via the Marienburg and Prinzenkopf viewing points.

The hill was fortified by the Romans around 350 AD and its name harks back to this time (Latin: arrha = fortified mountain).

The castle was built between 900 and 950 AD to protect the area from the invading Normans. Like so many others in the Mosel Valley, the castle was wrecked by the French (under the orders of Louis XIV (The Sun King) in the late 1600s.

One of the many display items

For awhile, the Castle was derelict, but the Keep with its 4 metre thick walls stood firm. Around 1900, a wealthy director of a mining-company restored the castle and made the castle liveable once more.

Weapons

The onsite museum provides some fascinating insights into the history of the Castle and of the Mosel Valley. There is a large collection of lithographs, graphic prints, ceramics and paintings showing the buildings, people and places along the river. In addition, there's the usual of suits of armour and medieval weapons for those who like things that stab, kill or go bang.

The memorial room to the former President of the Federal Republic of Germany (West Germany), Heinrich Lübke, – a relative of today´s owners - is definitely worth a look. Some of the gifts he received while in office (1959 - 1969) are on display such as the exquisite Japanese and Korean screens and a wall-hanging/tapestry from Madam Pompadour´s property, which was presented by the President of the French Republic. For those who like political history, check out the photos on the walls of President Lübke with several of his contemporaries, such as President Lyndon Johnson and President Charles de Gaulle.

Korean screen

Detail in the Korean screen

There's supposedly a splendid view from the top of the castle. I even walked up hill to see for myself but the morning mist had still not cleared.

It seems that nearly everyone has been involved with Burg Arras at some point - the Celts, Romans, Normans, French, Prussians and Germans, including some famous names like Bruno II of Berg, who was the Archbishop of Cologne, and who consecrated the on-site chapel. The knights of Arras made the castle their home in the early Middle Ages. Emperor Maximilian I stopped for the night in March 1512. While Napoleon may not have been here (there's no record of it) he clearly knew of the castle, as there are two letters signed by him on display.

Napoleon's letters (click on the photo to enlarge)

You too can also stay or eat at Burg Arras. The former imperial part of the castle is now a hotel and a restaurant, which they claim is the only hotel in a castle along the Mosel River. The rooms have canopies, turrets and look very appropriate, but they also have all of the mod cons such as spa baths.

Window in the castle

There is also an onsite cosmetic laser institute. How bizarre! However, perhaps it's just the thing to remove wrinkles after drinking too much good Mosel wine. The rather scary information provided in English says that the institute "implements permanent makeup. Experience the special atmosphere of a medieval knight." I suspect something got lost in the translation.

Speaking of scary, make sure you also take the old stairs down to the horror chamber dungeons beneath the castle.

Find out more:

Burg Arras / Arras Castle
Heinrich Lübke
The town of Alf
Walks and other activities along the Mosel (from Zell an der Mosel)
Zell an der Mosel and the area (click on the Union Jack flag to get the page into English).

(All text and photos copyright to Eventful Woman)

Eventful Woman (in red) exploring Burg Arras' Keep

Master Wine Maker - Albert Kallfelz

2011-11-02T03:52:00.008+13:00


The steep vineyards overlooking Zell an der Mosel (All photos and text copyright to Eventful Woman, 2011)

Zell an der Mosel is famous for its Riesling wines. The grapes grow on incredibly steep hillsides - inclines of around 60%. As well as being fit as mountain goats the winemakers must be very talented, too. I was told that this part of the Mosel wins more awards for its Riesling than any other in the Rhineland Pfalz Landwirtschaft Kammer. (The Chamber of Agriculture for the Rhineland Palatinate area.)

Some of Herr Kallfelz's gold and silver medals

I was also told that only 3% of the wines produced in all of Germany receive a medal (whether gold, silver or bronze). Of interest, to ensure the result is not subjective, a machine tests and analyses the wine, instead of people.

The steep vineyards are both an advantage and a disadvantage. It is difficult to use machinery on the hills and most tasks have to be done manually, which is very time consuming. However, the advantage of the sharp inclines is that they change the land's angle to the sun, making the sun's rays similar to the angle they are in the tropics. With plenty of warm sunshine it's no wonder the Mosel produces fabulous wines, even though it is so far north on the globe [in the northern hemisphere].

It has been a pleasure and an honour to interview three award-winning wine makers in Zell an der Mosel. Of course, I was forced to try the BEST Riesling that I've ever tasted as part of these interviews. It's a hard job being a writer and journalist - but someone has to do it!

While I will be writing more about these wine makers for an article when I'm back home in New Zealand, I can't wait that long to tell you something about them. Here's a 'sneak preview' of the first in a series of three:

Master wine maker, Herr Albert Kallfelz

Herr Albert Kallfelz is the highest decorated Riesling producer for the whole of Germany.

How long have you or your family owned this vineyard?

104 years.

How big is your vineyard?

I started with 1 hectare and today I have 65 hectares; 25 belong to me, 25 are leased from others and I also buy grape juice from growers with another 15 hectares.

What is the age of the vines?

The oldest are 90 years. I replace and replant new vines every year [on a rotation basis]

How many bottles of wine do you produce per year?

Between 600,000 and 750,000 bottles per year. These are mainly sold within Germany.

How did you learn wine making?

I didn't do an apprenticeship. I taught myself winemaking and how to market my wine.

Corks versus caps?

I stopped using corks 7 years ago. I use plastic corks, but not aluminium caps.

Philosophy

My philosophy on wine is the same as what I think about:

Liebe (Love)
Freundschaft (Friendship)
Fussball spielen (Playing football (or soccer, as it is called in New Zealand))

That is, you can't just study it; you have to learn it for yourself. You have to get a feel for it. You've got to go with the "feeling in the belly" (gut instinct).

I want to convince others to produce only high-class, quality Mosel wine, rather than rely on mass production.

Herr Kallfelz in his wine making cellar

Kallfelz Riesling wines tasted:

Merler Stephansberg, Spätlese Trocken (dry), 2010
Merler Adler Kabinett, Feinherb (medium dry) 2010
Merler Fettgarten Riesling
Urgestein 2007

Overall comments on the tasting: Honey-smooth, full-bodied, almost liqueur-like but fresh on the palate. The gold medal 2007 Urgestein is to die for.

This interview required a translator. I am very grateful and appreciative to Jürgen Richter for his work as my translator and also to Zell an der Mosel's mayor (Herr Hans Schwarz) and the town council who arranged my interview with Herr Kallfelz.

Thanks to my husband, TH, for taking great photos and also helping me with the translation as I was writing this piece up.

Last, but certainly not least, my thanks to Herr Kallfelz who took time out of his busy harvest schedule to talk to me and to answer my questions.


Eventful Woman hard at work. Standing is Albert Kallfelz and sitting is translator Jürgen Richter

All photos and text copyright to Eventful Woman, 2011

Find out more about:

Zell an der Mosel and the area (click on the Union Jack flag to get the page into English).
Kallfelz wine www.kallfelz.de (Note: The website is only available in German but "Google Translate" is easy to use for a quick translation www.translate.google.co.nz
My Europe Base, where I have been very comfortable for the last 4 weeks in Zell an der Mosel. Studio, one-bedroom or two-bedroom apartments available for either a couple of days or longer term.

Bernkastel-Kues: BK - It just looks better

2011-11-01T21:22:00.009+13:00

Half-timbered houses in Bernkastel (All text and photos copyright to Eventful Woman 2011)

If you're into half-timbered houses, then Bernkastel-Kues (BK) is the place to be. While these types of houses (I'd say Elizabethan, if I was in England) are typical of a historic German town, BK seems to have more than most.

Ornate sign in Bernkastel

Stand in the centre of Bernkastel's town square and you'll be surrounded by wall-to-wall, 400-year-old, half-timbered houses that are several stories high. You can almost hear the history creaking. Unfortunately, it can also be wall-to-wall tourists.

Like most towns in the world, the council building (the Rat Haus) is usually the most magnificent and, with its classic Renaissance building style, it's no exception in Bernkastel.

Spitzhäusen

Just off the town square I discovered the cute Spitzhäusen (Pointed house), a medieval, narrow-gabled house, with the upper storey hanging over the smaller bottom half.

Houses with window boxes

winding stairways

However, it's the divine cobbled streets that amble off in several directions from the square that attracted my attention and provided escape from the masses of people.

I meandered down tiny alley ways with over-arching buildings, ornate shop signs, higgly-piggly houses with flowers tumbling over the edges of their window boxes and winding stairways that had me climbing them (yes, walking up hill, something I normally hate) because I was curious about where they led.

Now that I've been in Germany for some weeks and because I am hopeless with the language, I've learned to tune out voices. While not exactly quiet, it has been a silent world in terms of understanding what is said to me. Imagine my surprise when I heard my own name through the 'cone of silence'. It was one of the passengers from the ship that had docked at Zell an der Mosel the night before, when TH and I had been invited to join the welcoming party. The ship had moved on from Zell to BK and the passengers had been let loose to explore. Several more spotted me and said hello. Two gave me a hug. It was a small oasis of belonging after weeks of being on the outside and it gave me quite a lift. Thanks to everyone who said hello - I really appreciated it.

Eventful Woman exploring Bernkastel

Landshut Castle

As with other places on the Mosel, a ruined castle (Landshut Castle) looms over the town. This time, however, the French and Louis XIV can't be blamed for the damage as Landshut was destroyed by fire in the late 1600s.

Bernkastel-Kues is a twin town like Traben-Trarbach. Kues and Bernkastel (on opposite sides of the Mosel) became one town when a bridge was built across the river in the early 1900s. The area has been populated for a few millennium. An early Stone Age (4000 to 3000 BC) village was discovered in Kues, making it the oldest settlement on the Mosel.

I spent the bulk of my time on the Bernkastel side, which has the most half-timbered buildings in one small area. However, Kues has the excellent Mosel Wine Museum and the Vinotheque where you can taste and compare a huge range of wines from the Mosel and the nearby Saar and Ruwar regions.

If you want to get your fill of half-timbered houses then BK is for you. When compared with other historic towns in Germany, it just looks better.

(All text and photos copyright to Eventful Woman 2011)

Getting there:

Buses, trains and boats ply the Mosel Valley in both directions, whether you are starting from up or down river.
From Zell an der Mosel, take the bus to Bullay and then the train to Bernkastel-Kues.

Find out more:

Bernkastel-Kues
How to book rail tickets in Germany
The mayoral welcome party in Zell an der Mosel
My Europe Base, a good place to stay in Zell an der Mosel for either a couple of days or longer term.

Celebrating the harvest

2011-10-30T21:33:00.006+13:00

Harvest festival street display (All photos and text copyright to Eventful Woman, 2011)

Autumn wreath on doorway

The streets and doorways of Zell an der Mosel are filled with symbols and icons of the harvest thanksgiving, or Erntedank as it is known as here.

Erntedank starts on the 1st Sunday in October (for Catholics) and on the Sunday after Michaelmas (September 29th) for Protestants. Vegetables, fruit and other harvest offerings have been a feature in most churches, although everyone seems to get in on the act whether in their homes, businesses or shops.

Harvest Festival display in Zell

Novelty chickens

Pumpkin orange is the predominant colour for the displays, which include vine leaves, scarecrows, kites, brooms, streamers, toy chickens and geese, lanterns and autumn wreaths. There are lots of pumpkins, of course. As the grape harvest is so important here, the Zeller Schwarze Katz (Zell's famous black cat) makes sure she does a 'guest spot' in the occasional display or in a shop window.

Can you spot the Zeller Schwarze Katz?

New wine and onion cake

Federweisser (new wine from the first pressing of the grapes) and zwiebelkuchen (spicy onion cake) are the big taste sensation of autumn and the harvest in Zell, and in other towns along the Mosel. I can see why zwiebelkuchen is a popular food for grape pickers. One bite of this tasty, nutritious, filling and savoury pancake/pizza, and I felt like I too could stride up the steep slopes of Zell's vineyards and pick grapes all day. (TH says 'yeah, right' to this.)


Harvest setting in wine cellar

Zell had its Federweissenfest (new wine festival) on the first weekend of October, with music and dancing in the streets, and special tastings at vineyards and wine cellars. Nearby Cochem will have theirs on the first weekend in November. Each festival has its own Wine Queen.

Colourful doorway

Shop window (can you see the cat?)

The black cat has inspired a Halloween theme (in a wine shop)

Scarecrows are a popular icon of the harvest

The toadstools are so dangerous they have to put behind bars

Zebras? I guess everyone is entitled to their own ideas.

All photos and text copyright to Eventful Woman, 2011

Find out more about:

Federweisser and zwiebelkuchen
Zeller Schwarze Katz (Zell's famous black cat)
Zell's Wine Queen
Affordable apartment to rent (for just a few days or long term) while Zell (My Europe Base)

Mayoral welcome party

2011-10-30T01:07:00.014+13:00


Party in full swing (All photos and text copyright to Eventful Woman, 2011)

We went to a marvellous party last week. TH and I were guests of Herr Stadtbürgermeister (Mayor) Hans Schwarz at an event to welcome the passengers off a tourist ship to Zell an der Mosel.

The band leading the crowd

Glasses lined up, Black Cat fountain in background

We had no idea what to expect but we knew the town would put on a good show and we weren't disappointed.

The passengers, many marching in time to the music and clapping their hands, were led from the ship by the town's orchestral band to the Zeller Schwarze Katz fountain (Zell's Black Cat fountain).

Glasses of fine Zell sekt (sparkling) wine were lined up for them on the bar in the marquee.

The Mayor made a welcoming speech, the wine princess told the legend of Zell's Black Cat, the passengers were invited to keep topping up on the excellent wine and also that they could keep their Zell-branded glasses as a souvenir.

Listening to the band

We circulated and talked to as many as we could about the great things to see and do in the Zell an der Mosel area. The passengers were mainly American and many were also travel agents. We met one Canadian who told us that there were some British people on board, plus two Australians but we didn't find them in the crowd. No Kiwis, unfortunately. However, a big HELLO and KIA ORA to the people we met from Utah, California, Washington DC, Arizona, North Carolina, Texas, Florida and Kentucky.

There was a lot of curiosity about why two New Zealanders were part of the welcoming party but they appreciated the opportunity to have their questions about Zell answered in English and by fellow tourists.

Enjoying the music

The band played hits from the 1960s to the 1980s to suit the age and nationality of the passengers, such as Silence is Golden and several Beach Boys numbers. Soon most were singing and doing the actions to Village People's YMCA.

Buffet tables in the wine cellar

Treats to eat

A selection of local delicacies such as wurst, meatballs, cheeses, breads, zwiebelkuchen (spicy onion and bacon cake), würstchen (little sausages) and potato pie and a great vat of federweisser (new wine) was served buffet-style in the wine cellars under the nearby town hall. The tables had little black cat shapes decorating the tablecloths. After the chilly night air, it was good to be in the warm.

Mayor Schwarz with passengers

When we left some were still dancing to the music of the town band. I'm not sure when they got to bed but hopefully all made it back to their cabins by the time the ship cast off in the morning.

Thanks to Herr Hans Schwarz and the town of Zell an der Mosel for a great night.

Find out more about:

Zell an der Mosel and the area (click on the Union Jack flag to get the page into English)
Zeller Schwarze Katz (Zell's black cat)
Federweisser and zwiebelkuchen (new wine and spicy onion cake)
My Europe Base, a good place to stay in Zell an der Mosel for either a couple of days or longer term.

All text and photos are copyright to Eventful Woman, 2011

On the prowl for Zell's black cat

2011-10-28T03:46:00.016+13:00

Zell's famous black cat (All photos are copyright to Eventful Woman, 2011)

Stained glass window in wine shop

Zell's Black Cat (Zeller Schwarze Katz) is on everyone's lips - in more ways than one. She's not only talked about, she helps to sell most of the wine produced in the area. She's present at every sip, as her image is on most wine labels. This is some cat!

Street sign

On my travels around Zell an der Mosel I see her everywhere, but I am unable to meet her. When I say "everywhere" I mean representations of her, not the real thing. The legendary cat died nearly 150 years ago, but her spirit lives on.

Cat defending the wine barrel

Laura, Zell's wine queen (who wears a tiara with a cat design) told me the story: "In 1863 there were 3 wine merchants from Aachen and they came into a wine cellar in Zell an der Mosel to purchase the best wine they could find. In one winery, the negotiations went on for a long time and suddenly the cellar owner's black cat sprung up onto one cask. She arched her back threateningly and she hissed when these merchants came near her. The merchants interpreted this as a good omen [that a cat would defend a wine from price discounting] and they bought without even tasting the wine. Back in Aachen, the wine sold well [it was branded with a black cat on the label] and the merchants came back for more. That is the legend."

An image of the black cat has been used ever since to promote the Riesling from Zell an der Mosel. Use of the Zeller Schwarz Katz brand and logo is fiercely defended, just like the cat did herself.

Watchful black cat

Stadtbürgermeister Hans Schwarz

When I interviewed Stadtbürgermeister Hans Schwarz (the local mayor) he said, "The logo belongs to the town and is managed by the council. It is protected by a patent and this patent has to be renewed every 10 years. A vineyard in Austria used the black cat logo last year and was fined. In former times there was a seal on every bottle and the owner had to go the town hall to complete a record of the number of bottles he produced, He was then given the same number of corks to use for the wine." [Note: The mayor's words have been translated from German.]

There are records dating back to the Year 930 on wine making in Zell. However, it is thought that wine was first produced in the Mosel River area by the Romans almost 2000 years ago. The excellent local history museum in Zell has artifacts, tools and records from centuries ago, including how Zell got its name. The Romans called the place "Cella" after the storage cellars they made for the wine. Cella translates to Zelle in German. The mayor said that there are at least 20 towns in Germany with the name of Zell, but only one Zell an der Mosel (Zell on the Mosel River).

Black cat fountain

Also on display in the museum are the patent documents that the mayor talked about for the Zeller Schwarze Katz logo.

Images of the black cat are everywhere in Zell. She even has a whole fountain dedicated to her.

Zell has around 4,300 people and approximately 4 million vines. I've lost count of the number of images I've seen of the famous cat.

Signs and window displays in Zell

They even have cat woman

Find out more about:

Zell an der Mosel (click on the Union Jack flag to get the page into English)
My Europe Base, a good place to stay in Zell an der Mosel
Laura, Zell's wine queen

All text and photos are copyright to Eventful Woman, 2011

Traben-Trarbach: twin delights

2011-10-26T03:02:00.007+13:00

The Brückentor (Bridge Gate) is the symbol of Traben-Trarbach
(All photos copyright to Eventful Woman, 2011)

The first modern bridge to be built across the Mosel River was between the towns of Traben and Trarbach in 1904. Had I had crossed it back then it would have cost a couple of pfennige for me, the same for my horse, and the same again if I had a flock of 10 ducks or sheep.

A pfennig (or pfennige for the plural) is an old German coin, which was in use from the 9th century right up until the introduction of the Euro in 2002. Older Germans sometime refer to the new one cent piece as a pfennig.

Cobbled street with wine press in Trarbach

If I was Catholic, I could get a discount on Fridays and Sundays, providing I was making the journey to attend church. I counted 8 churches in total (they were either Evangelic or Catholic) and I wondered why anyone would need to get to the other side to go to church. I suppose it's a bit like the perennial question on why the chicken crossed the road. The most logical answer: because it could!!

These days the crossing is free and I wasn't charged anything for TH either. Neither of us had ducks, horses or sheep and it wasn't a Friday or Sunday. However, it is not the same bridge. The original was blown up in 1945 in the dying days of World War 2.

Carved doorway

Traben was first mentioned in the record books in the year 820 and Trarbach around 300 years later. However, people (Celts, Romans, Saxons, etc) lived there long long before that date. Both towns have their historical charms although we spent more time in Trarbach, which is on the right hand side of the Mosel going downstream towards Koblenz.

We wandered the cobbled streets, which were remarkably free of tourists. It's the details that impress as much as the larger buildings - carved doorways, ivy growing on walls, the ornate shop signs, half-timbered houses with slate roofs and window gables, and the grape vines that trailed above us.

Carillion on the old tower

In Trarbach, it's worth a climb up one of the last remaining towers from the old city wall, originally built around 1350 but restored in the last few years. In 2004 a new Carillion was installed on this tower to commemorate the anniversary of Traben-Trarbach joining as one city in 1904 (when the bridge was built). Yes, I know I don't like "walk", "up" and 'hill" but these were steps and I liked peering over the edge of the staircase, which made my head whirl. It was very entertaining in a tipsy sort of way.

Looking up the staircase of the tower

Once you've stopped puffing at the top, you can admire the view over the town, the Mosel, the steep-sided vineyards and up to jagged remains of Grevenburg Castle (also built around 1350 and destroyed by Louis XIV (the "Sun King") in 1734.

The MittelMosel Museum (the Middle Mosel Museum), which is housed in a baroque villa on the corner of Enkircherstrasse and Moselstrasse in Trarbach has a comprehensive history of the twin towns.

Linger awhile and make sure you also stop for fabulous German cake (kuchen) at the many delectable shops.

Getting to Traben-Trarbach:

By river boat or bus from most of the towns on the Mosel, including Zell an der Mosel.
By rail, check out www.deutschbahn.de for ticket specials (when travelling in the Mosel Valley) after 9am, Monday to Friday, and any time over the weekend.
By car along the Mosel River road. There's free parking under the bridge.
By cycle, along the cycle way (radweg) beside the Mosel River. Under the bridge there's nifty little lock-up bike garages (like large dog kennels) for your bike and/or back pack.

Meeting the Queen

2011-10-25T07:29:00.006+13:00

Queen Laura Waltner, Weinkönigin for Zell an der Mosel
(all photos are copyright to Eventful Woman, 2011)


Zell's Weinkönigin Laura Waltner

It's not often you meet a Queen, but in the Mosel region, there is a good chance you will see one. Like many other towns on the Mosel River, Zell has a Wine Queen (Weinkönigin) and also a Wine Princess (Weinprinzessin).

The role has moved on from being merely decorative. The Wine Queen has a key part to play in promoting the area and its wine, and she makes a significant time committment to attending a large number of events for the town during her reign.

I met with Weinkönigin Laura Waltner recently to pose a few questions. She spoke good English, which she had learned on a school exchange visit to Florida, USA.

What does a Wine Queen do?

Laura making a speech at an event

When there are guests to the town I greet them. I represent the town, the wine, the wineries and the wine growers. When there are wine festivals in different towns I go there and I represent our own wines. I'm also invited to wine tastings.

How do you become a wine queen?

You usually have to be the daughter of a wine maker as you need to know a lot about wine making. In the past, there were many girls who wanted to become a wine queen. But, it's a big job in Zell with a lot of appointments [commitments] so it's becoming less that other girls want to do this. I do nearly 80 appointments per year.

Wine Princess (left) and Wine Queen Laura

My father is not a wine maker, although my uncle is. A friend of mine had this idea about becoming a wine princess first, like being an apprentice. There were three of us. We asked the mayor and he agreed to the idea. One of us became the Queen, as she was the daughter of a wine grower and she had a lot of experience and she knew a lot about wine. So, my friend and I became the princesses and 2 years later I became the Queen. Next year in summer it will be 2 years since I became a Queen.

Note the tiara design with the Zell cat logo

How long can you be the holder of the crown?

Usually the Wine Queen title is for 2 years, but it can be up to 3. After that, I could try to become the Queen of the whole Mosel area. I am not sure about that because I am going to university and I first want to graduate. I study art and philosophy and I want to become a teacher.

In the 2 weeks I have been in Zell, I am aware of at least 3 events that Laura has attended and made speeches at. There have probably been other commitments that I'm not aware of. She accompanies the mayor to many events and helps him with translating (German into English, as well as English into German). I interviewed two wine makers from Zell and each spoke highly of Laura and the importance of her role as wine ambassador for Zell an der Mosel.

Laura's work as Zell's Weinkönigin is unpaid.

Eventful Woman (back to the camera) meeting Wine Queen Laura and two other guests at Zell's new wine festival (federweissenfest)

Rocking up the Collis Steilpfad (Steep Path)

2011-10-23T06:56:00.010+13:00

Eventful Woman climbing up the Collis Steilpfad (all photos copyright to Eventful Woman 2011)

As you know "walk", "up" and "hill" are not my favoured activities. It's the relentless plodding with no excitement that I don't like. However, throw in a challenge like rock climbing and I'm all for it.

TH suggested I wouldn't be able to clamber up the rock face of Collis Steilpfad to the Collis Tower, which looms 300 metres above Zell an der Mosel. I guess he thought I'd eaten too much of those delectable kuchen (cakes), since we've been here. Of course, we had a bet (a choice cake) just to make it extra interesting.

If the kuchen of my choice wasn't enough inspiration, the warning sign on the way up gave me an extra thrill. It had a number of stern warnings for the faint-hearted in several languages:

Walk at your own risk
Only for experienced hikers
Freedom from vertigo is essential
Sure footedness is essential

It didn't mention there was no safety rope. Still, with TH below me taking photos, at least he'd break my fall and also make a soft landing pad.

I admit there was more than a bit of huffing and puffing and I had to raid the nearby vineyard for some nutritious grapes to keep me going.

But I did it. The views were magnficent both up and down The Mosel. We completely dwarfed the Round Tower that we had conquered on an earlier climb.

View of the Round Tower and Zell

We noticed several padlocks clipped onto the viewing tower at the top. Each of these had two names (a bride and a groom) etched on their surface. This is a modern day tradition for hiking couples. They lock the padlock shut on one of the tower's rail as a sign that their love is sure and made in heaven. Then, they throw away the key so the padlock can't easily be opened - "let no man put asunder" and all that.

There wasn't time to suggest this romantic concept to TH for ourselves. I was too busy making my way down so I could get that divine cake I had been promised.

Looking downstream towards Alf from the viewing tower

View of the Round Tower and Zell

Click here for more information about the Round Tower.

Directions to get to Collis Steilpfad (about 10 - 15 minutes walk uphill to get to the path): Start at Zell's Black Cat (Zeller Schwarze Katz) fountain, walk up Marktstrasse and then turn right onto Cuxbornstrasse. Continue left up Zeller Kehr, passing the Square Tower on your right hand side. At the top of Zeller Kehr, turn left onto Kabertchenweg for around 50 metres. Look for the warning sign (about needing to be sure-footed and free from vertigo) on the right hand side. That is the start of the path up to the Collis Steilpfad. Depending on your fitness levels, the walk/climb from there up to the Collis Tower will take between 25 - 45 minutes.

Wine and onions, like love and marriage

2011-10-22T10:27:00.014+13:00


Federweisser and zwiebelkuchen served by Karlheinz Weis Weingut and Brennerei in Zell

I've learned two new words that go hand-in-hand with the grape harvest in Zell an der Mosel - federweisser and zwiebelkuchen. Of course, both of these are connected with eating and drinking and so are dear to my heart. Your only chance to sample these two together is during the grape harvest in October.

Federweisser is also known as new wine. It is cloudy, slightly fizzy, has a full-bodied grape taste and is very 'more-ish'. In the first stage of the wine-making process, the freshly picked grapes are pressed and then yeast is added to the grape juice to start the fermentation process (when the sugar in the grapes (fructose) turns into alcohol). As soon as alcohol levels reach 4%, the juice can be drunk as new wine (or federweisser).

Federweisser translates as 'white feathers'. This is because the fizzy bubbles in the glass look like white feathers dancing in the wine. It tastes as delightful as it sounds.

Because federweisser is constantly evolving into wine (in the storage tanks as more of the fructose converts to alcohol) this refreshing drop is only available for a few days. Once alcohol levels in the tank reach 10%, the next stage of the wine making process happens to convert this fizzing juice into clear wine.

Most wineries (known as weingut) sell federweisser at their cellar door and many also sell the traditional accompaniment - zwiebelkuchen (a spicy onion cake). This is made of onions (of course), bacon, egg and sour cream, plus a secret ingredient or two. This mix is poured into a pastry base (like a pizza crust) and then cooked.

Karlheinz Weis Weingut

In the interests of good research I tried several different versions of zwiebelkuchen to find the best in town. Karlheinz Weis Weingut and Brennerei (Distillery) http://www.weis-weine.de/ serves my top favourite spicy onion cake. Located at the sunny corner of 46 Brandenburg and Oberstrasse it is a pleasant spot to while away an autumn afternoon and is less than 100 metres walk from our apartment at My Europe Base.

Their steep vinyard (like most in Zell) is immediatly behind their winery. They use a little trolley on a monorail to bring the picked grapes down from the slopes.

The little trolley that climbs the steep vinyard

Tipping the picked grapes in the trailer

Herr Karlheinz Weis

The vineyard has been in the family for four generations and Herr Karlheinz Weis has been awarded several silver and bronze medals for his wine. The charming Frau Christiane Weis manages the tasting area and shop, which is was the old farm house (around 100 years old). Christiane speaks some English and she also gave me some great suggestions on what to see and do in the Zell area.

I am working on getting a recipe for zwiebelkucken and will share it with you when I do. However, there's no rush. TH would only expect me to cook it for him and I am too busy trying all of the other exciting activities in Zell. Right now, our regular fix of zwiebelkuchen is only 1 minute walk away so I don't have to cook it myself.

Click on these links to find out more about:

Cruising to Beilstein

2011-10-18T08:24:00.012+13:00

Beilstein gleaming in the sun (All photos copyright to Eventful Woman 2011)

The morning mist hung over the Mosel River on our boat cruise from Zell to Beilstein. Vineyards and olde-worlde houses loomed out of the mist and then quietly faded behind us on our 2-hour trip down stream.

Rapunzel tower and the castle

Suddenly, the sun broke through just as we turned a bend and it was if Camelot had materialised on the river bank, gleaming in the sunshine. This was Beilstein with its half-timbered houses and Rapunzel like turrets. The jagged ruins of its castle loomed over us as we eased into the dock.

Beilstein is a tiny village but it has a lot to see. There's probably no centimetre free of tourists in summer but in autumn there is breathing space between the waves of 'gawkers' that pour off the boats and buses. At times, it was just TH and I stepping on its cobbled streets and peering in the windows like curious children.

Archway in the castle

It was chilly in its shady courtyards, so TH and I decided to wander up to the castle. Yes, I know I don't normally do activities like "walk up hill" but the cold motivated me to keep moving.

The original owners of "Burg Metternich" (the castle's proper name) were the aristocratic Von Braunshorns. They extracted tolls from passing river traffic and probably fired off the odd salvo from the ramparts to discourage anyone trying to sneak past without paying. It wasn't until the early to mid 1600s that the von Metternichs became the owners and stamped their name on the place.

Sadly, the French wrecked the castle in the late 1600s. However, it is still worth a visit to poke about the ruins and especially for its sweeping views of Beilstein and of the Mosel. We climbed the spiral staircase inside the 25 metre Keep and also admired the glorious autumn reds and oranges of the nearby vineyards.

Huge Catholic (Carmelite) Monastery and Church (view from the castle)

Like Camelot, Beilstein has an impressive cathedral. It's hard to imagine how such a tiny village could support the huge Catholic (Carmelite) Monastery and Church, which takes up almost half of the town's space. Most of the visitors just sat and quietly admired the baroque altar and ornamental ceilings, while others lit remembrance candles. The smoky beeswax aroma and "Ave Maria" on the sound system added a lot to the ambience.

Inside the church

I noted a display of woollen bootees and scarves which the women of the church had for sale in the vestry. They'd need to sell a lot of scarves at 11 Euros apiece to fund the upkeep of the place.

There was a large cafe and restaurant in the church's courtyard, which sold excellent meals. TH and I did our bit for the roof fund by purchasing large plates of pork schnitzel, complete with piles of potatoes and salad. In the German tradition, the cafe also had an attractive range of cakes and sweet treats to finish the meal off. The 10 cm high Black Forest Gateau (Schwarzwalder Kirsch Torte) was to die for.

Beilstein alleyway

We waddled back down to the village. The sun had warmed the stone walls and, casting off our jackets and jerseys, we explored all of the town's nooks and crannies.

Beilstein signs and lamps

Half the place is restaurants, hotels, shops and eateries. However, signs and buildings are kept as far as possible in the medieval style.

Most of the visitors were lingering at sunny tables and having walked off our huge lunch, TH and I also found a warm spot to wait for our homeward boat.

Farewell to Beilstein

Entering the lock

Onboard, we glided back to Zell in the warm afternoon sun. The mist had long dispersed and we were rewarded with a full view of the passing scenery and of how the boat was guided through a lock.

There are several locks on the Mosel River, although this is the only one between Zell and Beilstein. Apart from a crew man keeping the boat steady in the lock by periodically moving its tethering rope up onto the next rung (to match the rising of the boat as the lock filled up) the process was fully automated. We slowly rose up the slimy, dark sides of the lock and into the fresh air. The forward gates slid down, the light turned green and the captain put on all speed.

We docked at Zell right on sunset. Our convenient "My Europe Base" apartment was less than 3 minutes walk away.

Heading for Zell in the late afternoon
(All photos copyright to Eventful Woman 2011)

Misty-eyed in Zell

2011-10-16T06:29:00.001+13:00

Looking upstream from our bedroom window, copyright Eventful Woman 2011

We awoke this morning to our first frost in Zell an der Mosel. While cosy in our "My Europe Base" apartment, we discovered it was decidedly chilly once we poked our noses outside.

TH was duly dispatched alone to purchase our daily continental rolls from the bakery, while I 'oohed' and 'aahed' out of our window at the misty Mosel River and at the sun gilding the grape vines.

Looking downstream from our bedroom window. Copyright Eventful Woman 2011

Find out more about My Europe Base apartments

Walking around

2011-10-16T04:02:00.001+13:00

Round Tower with TH admiring the view

I may be an adventurous woman but there's three words I don't usually put together: "walk", "up" and "hill". I prefer something more eventful to scale hills like a motorcyle ride up or maybe sky diving down.

However, it was such a magnificent blue-sky day here in Zell an der Mosel that even I decided that the plod up hill to the town's iconic Round Tower would be worth it. What's more, TH promised me coffee and cake if I got both up and down the hill without him having to carry me.

The Round Tower is a medieval remnant of the town's fortifcations. In early drawings of the town, the tower is pictured with a tall, pointed roof. However, this was replaced in 1690 with an imperial dome, similar to the town's St Peter's church.

The first part of the walk is a gentle uphill stroll through Oberstrasse, which is not much wider than one car width. Grape vines have been encouraged to grow above the street at about 10 metre intervals. Fat bunches of grapes hung from them and I hovered for awhile underneath each one in the hope that one or more would fall into my gaping mouth. No such luck. The road then headed sharply up onto Zeller Kehr for a few hundred metres until we reached the grey stone Square Tower. This was part of the old town wall. The sign pointing to the "Rund Turm" (Round Tower) directed us through the arched doorways in the Square Tower.

Vineyards and St Peter's church

There was a few zigs and zags on an uphill path but no more than for100 metres. It was worth it - the view sweeps over the vineyards, along the sinuous Mosel River (you can look both up and down river) and way below to the slate roof tops of St Peter's Church and the village of Zell an der Mosel.

Now in Zell an der Mosel

2011-10-15T00:50:00.002+13:00

View from our apartment over the Mosel River

Wow, check out the view (above) from our apartment in Zell an der Mosel (Zell for short).

All New Zealanders love a place beginning with "Z" and Zell is no exception. TH (The Husband) and I have made ourselves very comfy in a 1-bedroom apartment on the first floor of "My Europe Base". While the four apartments in this building are for anyone, the owners specialise in providing a home-from-home for travelling Kiwis and Aussies.

Our apartment is on the first floor

We have three big windows which look over the Mosel River to vineyards and the historic houses and the other side.

I love my bed and, when TH pulls brings me my cup of tea in the mornings, he pulls up the window shutters and I prop myself up on the pillows to watch the ships and barges ply the river. As it also harvest time, I also follow the progress of the grape pickers moving their way up the steep slopes of the vineyards. I love watching work like this. (TH says I don't only like to watch but I long to supervise, too).

TH ventures out to the local bakery each day to buy fresh rolls and, by the time he returns, I am ready for my continental breakfast of cheese, salami and ham on these crunchy and delicious rolls. Being very food-motivated, I improve my German vocabulary with words involving edibles. My current favourite word is "Lecker", which means delicious!

Of course, the famous Riesling wine in the Zell area is also lecker. In the interests of good research, I interviewed three of the top wine makers in the area and sampled their excellent product. Click here to read about these wine makers.

The apartment manager is the wonderful Elsbeth. She speaks some English and goes out of her way to help her visitors settle in. TH came down with a sniffle (called schnuffling) and very soon she was on our doorstep with her best cure - mulled wine. Of course, I got half of it - as a purely preventative measure, of course. A good writer must remain at her best at all times.

For more information about My Europe Base click here.

Ten of schnapps and one of whisky

2011-10-12T08:16:00.002+13:00

Eve and Stefanie Klöckner (in white shirt)

For those who thought that I was 'slowing down' by having just a hot chocolate in Hachenburg, here's the truth. I had an eventful night at Birkenhof Brennerei sampling their fine selection of fruit brandies and schnapps.

Owner Stefanie Klöckner generously donated her expertise and products so I could sample this genuine taste of Germany. Schnapps is distilled from fermented fruit, usually with no added sugar. It might look harmless as it is clear and almost colourless, but it packs a powerful punch at 40% ABV (alcohol by volume) (80 proof).

Fictenfeuer

TH and I swirled our glasses and sniffed and quaffed our way through 10 glasses of their wide range. I was very taken with three in particular - hazelnut, plum and the Williams pear.

My top favourite was Fictenfeuer - best described as a citrusy, fruity, taste explosion.

Stefanie discovered that I also have hankering for a good, single malt and offered a sample of their unique Fading Hill Whisky. While this was milder than the smoky single malts of Islay that I am rather partial to, it had a lot of promise. Birkenhof have sold out of their current stock of whisky and, judging by the available space in their temperature controlled barrel store, they are planning on a lot more bottles next year.

If you are in Hachenburg (in the Westerwald of Germany) make sure you stop Birkenhof Brennerei. Click here to find out more.

Hot chocolate in Hachenburg

2011-10-05T02:47:00.005+13:00

The historic town of Hachenburg in Westerwald, Germany, is charming and olde-worlde. There are whole streets like this and Disneyland it ain't. These houses are 300 to 600 years old and people really live in them.

The oldest building is "Die Krone" (now a restaurant and hotel), which was built in the 12th Century. This makes me feel positively youthful!

In the late afternoon, I settled into one of the many outdoor cafes and sipped on hot chocolate. The locals greeted each other while taking an evening stroll with their dogs and the tourists shuffled past while 'gawking' at the old buildings. Click here for more photos of Hachenburg.


Wolfgang with some of his African art, copyright TH 2011

I joined the stollers and, a few doors up from where I had been sitting, I discovered a man converting the front room of his house (built in 1610) into a gallery specilising in African art. Wolfgang spoke good English and I loved hearing how he was about to fulfil a life-long dream with his own gallery. He agreed to my request to interveiw him and I'll be doing that tomorrow. Click here for Wolfgang's story.

Who got bitten - the sharks, Robyn or Eventful Woman?

2011-09-30T17:03:00.001+13:00

Robyn (left) and Eventful Woman before the plunge

You dared me to plunge into a shark tank and I did it! But I didn't go in alone. I had to offer some choice for the sharks and I pesuaded Robyn Forryan to come with me. Click here to discover who got eaten in the end.

Two good bites

2011-09-22T14:38:00.001+12:00

Two lucky winners have snapped up the chance to share an event with me.

Prohibition Restaurant

Bite No 1: Writer and business woman, Linda Grigg, will be joining me for the long, splendid lunch at Prohibition restaurant

Photo credit: Kelly Tarlton's

Bite No 2: At first, no one took the bait to plunge into the shark tank with me. I was beginning to wonder if I was the bravest of them all. However, I managed to persuade Robyn Forryan, entrepreneur and owner of Property Magic, to join me. Of course, I had to convince her that I might be tastier.

Click here to find out when and where Robyn will have to smile for the camera while having her leg ripped off.

Have an eventful life on me

2011-09-09T22:11:00.007+12:00

Eve diving at Borneo Malaysia

Remember when you dared me to swim with the sharks? Well, you didn't think I'd do that alone, did you? One of you gets to swim with me.

I've heard many of you say that you want my life. While you can't have it (I'm already using it), there's 2 FREE opportunities to experience a part of my life. For those who want a less eventful choice than shark bait, there's another option up for grabs.

One lucky e-newsletter subscriber will enjoy a splendid, long lunch (or dinner) with me while another lucky (??) subscriber gets to plunge into the shark tank. And, it's all for free. Click here to find out how.

Eventful Woman's Facebook page.

Sharks win over tigers

2011-08-18T17:21:00.002+12:00

A big thank you for those who voted on my recent "DARE ME" poll. Voting was neck and neck between sharks and tigers right from the start. Here's the results for the dares:

No 1: Plunge into a shark tank (44% of votes)

No 2: Feed a tiger (40% of votes)

No 3: Jump off the Sky Tower (16% of votes)

Clearly, you all think that a Sky Jump is not eventful enough. And, I suppose you expect me to plunge into the shark tank when it is still winter?

Of course, I am an Eventful Woman and your wish is my command. Watch this space!

TH and the courtesan

2011-07-17T16:49:00.032+12:00

The Oiran eyeing TH

Eve is used to being an Eventful Woman, but TH (the husband) had an eventful experience of his own in Japan recently.

I know that TH is gorgeous but I didn't expect him to catch the eye of an Oiran (a high-ranking courtesan). There was even a suggestion of marriage!

How did this happen?

I blame the ninjas for distracting me. We were visiting Edo Wonderland, a sort of historic village set in the Edo period of Japan (1600s to mid 1800s) with costumed actors playing various characters.

Almost everyone knows of my skills in karate and tai chi. I was spellbound from the techniques and expertise I had witnessed, as I staggered breathlessly out of the Ninja theatre.

Photo copyright: Digitaltrends.com

My fogged glasses had nothing to do with agile young men leaping about the stage to the throbbing of the drums.

We then strayed into the Traditional Japanese Culture Centre, found our seats and listened to the gentle plucking of lutes while waiting for the show to start. With the exception of a man with a red maple leaf emblazoned on his back pack, the rest of audience were all Japanese.

The MC/Court Jester ambled among the seated throng and eventually paused in front of TH. The Jester invited TH up to the stage and, after the usual questions about where are you from and how do you like Japan, TH was suddenly whisked behind the curtain. I wasn't too worried - the natives appeared friendly and I was still in my 'post-Ninja high'.

Imagine my surprise when the curtains swished back to reveal TH lounging on a silken cushion and resplendent in long, fine garments. He had transformed into an Odaijin (an aristocratic man). The crowd giggled in delight.

The Oiran made her entrance and made a beeline straight for TH.

She plied him with a whole saucerful of sake.

They had a conversation, with the Jester providing TH his stage lines on big cards. I couldn't follow a word as it was all in Japanese. However, the body language was obvious - that Oiran was after my man!

However, despite the sake and some fancy dancing with fans, TH was not swayed.

The Oiran is devastated she can't have TH

Anyway, how could there be a new 'match made in heaven' when TH is already in orbit with me?

The play ended without a marriage and the actors and TH took their bows. The audience clapped and I gave TH a standing ovation. I had forgotten all about my ninjas.

Find out more about Edo Wonderland

Japanese wedding

2011-06-19T17:47:00.000+12:00

Eventful Woman (Eve) and TH were guests at Japanese wedding at the end of May. They were the only non-Japanese there. Eve is used to standing out in a crowd, especially when TH is accompanying her in his full Scottish kilt. However, as it only right, it was the bride's show that day.

Bride reading the wedding licence

Unlike weddings in New Zealand, the bride had not one but THREE outfits - each one more spectacular than the other. She started the day in a traditional, white bridal kimono. This is heavy embossed silk, with lots and lots of silk layers underneath.

She removes the hood after the ceremony to reveal an elaborate hair style with flowers and fans.

At the reception the bride greets her guests, while still wearing her kimono.

However, part-way through the 10-course wedding banquet she leaves to change into her next outfit.
Of course, she doesn't just slip back into the room. She and her husband make a BIG entrance. The reception lights are dimmed, the spotlights focus on the door, and "Ave Maria" swells out of the speaker system. There is a collective gasp when the doors open to reveal her, resplendent in full, European wedding attire with a long train. Her hair style, make-up, jewellery, shoes have also changed to match - including her husband, now in a tuxedo.

She wears this gorgeous outfit for around one hour. The 10-course meal continues and there's a few speeches, including one by Eve. TH sings a song in the bride and groom's honour, which was also sung at Eve and TH's wedding. They return to their seats all damp-eyed and nostalgic.

There is one more change. Once again the house lights are dimmed and the spotlights beam onto the entrance door. Talk about 'pretty in pink'! The bride stuns us with this frothy, "Gone with the Wind" Southern Belle number, with matching husband in a white, shiny suit, with grey waistcoat and pink cravate. He looks like a Southern gentleman and not a little unlike a famous singer from Memphis. The crowd gives them a standing ovation.

While the lights are still low, the bride and groom light a candle on each table and then the candelabra near their table.
There isn't a dry eye in the house.

Who's getting married?

2011-05-08T13:06:00.001+12:00

While Eventful Woman is used to being the centre of attention, with admiring crowds and photographers, she is not the graceful figure in white in this photo. This is another wedding that Eve attended recently. Anyway, Eve is already married to the gorgeous TH (The Husband).

However, Eve and TH are off to another wedding in Japan at the end of May. On her return she will talk about the wonderful traditions and history, the finery and costumes and the copious amounts of sake.

Congratulations to Alex Garden

2011-04-18T22:31:00.000+12:00

Alex Garden successfully completed the Takapuna King of the Bays 1000-metre Ocean Swim on Saturday 16 April. Alex battled the wind, rain and a big swell to finish the event.

Before he started training, Alex confessed to being 'uncomfortable in the water'. Find out why he did it and discover his top tips to achieve a personal goal?

Konichiwa (Greetings)

2011-04-02T23:17:00.005+13:00

This week Eventful Woman learned how to cook a Japanese meal.

She chopped her way through a whole garden of vegetables and a string of sausages was also harmed in the making of this meal. Of course, Eve got to eat the food and and she pronounced it oishii (delicious).

It probably comes as no surprise that Eve had to turn this lesson into a proper EVENT by setting new standards for the shape of triangles. Find out how.

Alex Garden - in the swim of it

2011-03-27T12:56:00.002+13:00

What makes someone who confesses to be 'uncomfortable in the water' take on a 1000-metre swim in the ocean? Alex Garden is this month's Eventful Person. Find out more about him and his challenge to be 'in the swim of it'.

Writer in Residence in Germany

2011-01-29T11:02:00.005+13:00

Check out the house with the window boxes

In October/November this year (2011) I will be a writer-in-residence in Zell, in the Mosel Valley, Germany.

For awhile now I have dreamed of having a base in Europe to write and live the continental life. I have now found a perfect apartment in a postcard-pretty historic town, with cobbled streets and darling houses with gables and window boxes. There's lots of vineyards too.

Discover how you can stay here, too.

Did you know that Eventful Woman was a writer-in-residence inside a classic Land Rover? She spent a whole year driving around the world in a 1966 Series IIA Land Rover working with TH (the husband) as a photo-journalism team. Find out more.

How to Drive Around the World and Stay on Top

2011-01-10T11:39:00.006+13:00

Ever wanted to try the ultimate road trip - a long drive around the world? Don't just think about, do it. Help is at hand with my new Ebook/report: "How to Drive Around the World and Stay on Top". It's only $US3.99 and it tells you everything you wanted to know about:

How to plan and prepare for a 4WD expedition, including vehicle preparation
Roads, maps, visas and border crossings
Health issues, staying together and staying alive
Tips and ideas that really work from someone who has actually done it.

Find out more and where to download this new Ebook/report in any Ebook format. Whether you want to read online, download as a PDF to your computer or onto your Sony Reader, Palm, Kindle, etc, I've covered all options. There's no need to wait or go out and find it in a book shop. You can buy this report now for $US3.99.

If you want to know more about how I drove around the world in a Land Rover check it out here.

Photo taken in Nepal by TH, copyright 2011

Wee dram for New Year

2010-12-31T22:45:00.010+13:00

Happy New Year to everyone. I'm savouring one of my favourite single malts tonight - "Superstition" from the Isle of Jura.

I drink it straight and unadulterated by any mixes. There's certainly no ice in this beauty, either. I am drinking what's referred to as "three fingers of Scotch". Want to know what that is? Hold the glass in one hand with your three bigger fingers around the side of the glass (that's the index (first) finger, middle finger and ring finger). The ring finger rests at the bottom edge of the glass and the littlest finger is positioned under the glass to support it. Pour in a good single malt until it reaches just above the height of the index finger. That is a three-finger Scotch. The bigger you are the more whisky you drink. Oh, to be 2 metres tall or to have fat fingers!!

Cheers to all and have a terrific 2011.

All I want for Christmas

2010-12-18T23:08:00.003+13:00

For my Christmas present this year I purchased a piglet! This is part of World Vision's Smiles programme which helps communities grow food for families. This cute little porker is like a living piggy bank. When she grows up she could produce up to 20 babies per year, as well as plenty of natural fertiliser for food gardens. I wonder if they'll call her Eventful Pig?

New Eventful Woman logo

2010-12-02T10:01:00.003+13:00

Check out the new logo for Eventful Woman. This has been designed by the fabulous Renee from RG Design.

New Eventful Woman coming soon

2010-11-09T13:07:00.007+13:00

A new and improved Eventful Woman will be coming to this stage soon. Watch this space.

Your favourite around-the-world expedition tales continue below or you can read them all here.

Last Days in USA

2008-07-14T12:07:00.022+12:00

Extract from Eventful Woman's Land Rover Expedition

Expedition Time: 19 May 1998

Our passage back into USA from Canada was effortless. It was a huge contrast to the west coast, when we drove down from Vancouver in our “antique buggy” with those red apples on board.
http://eventfulwoman.blogspot.com/2005/08/core-business-for-us-customs.html

Upstate New York is rolling, green and pretty like Vermont. While the countryside was beautiful, we wanted to cover as many miles as possible to ensure a short run to JFK International Airport the next day. We decided on a toll motorway to get a few miles under the bonnet.

It was easy driving and I didn’t need to concentrate on navigating for awhile. We talked over the expedition to date and both of us agreed that Yosemite National Park and Niagara Falls had been the top scenic views.

The hardest thing to cope with had been F2’s unexpected and destructive behaviour and we still had major concerns about this for the future.

We also agreed that, even in a county that had good roads and easy-to-follow signs in English, some things took a lot longer than planned or didn’t happen as they should have. This had been the second hardest thing for me to cope with.

I loved to plan and organise, but I couldn’t plan for every contingency and this had created circumstances when I became uncharacteristically indecisive. In turn, this had forced TH to become more decisive than previously, which he wasn’t comfortable with. While he took an active part in longer-term decisions, he was usually content to just to sit back and let me make any instant decisions that cropped up along the way. My dithering had sorely frustrated TH. In return I had become angry when he didn’t try to help me out when I had trouble making decisions. Both of us had been waiting for the other to take the lead and were confused when it didn’t happen.

We had learned a lot in the two months we had spent driving around North America, but we’d need to become a lot more resilient if we were to survive the tougher stages of the expedition, which were still ahead of us. Managing stress and changing circumstance can be relatively easy for a 2-week jaunt or maybe a slightly longer holiday. Most people can cope because home and rest is not far away. But, this was a long expedition and it would be relentless. We would solely dependent on our own resources and we’d have to cope for a whole year, whatever happened.

We pushed our troubles aside and turned off the toll road to take a look at the Finger Lakes. This is an area of long, narrow lakes, spread out in a loose fan shape rather like fingers on a hand. The area was originally Iroquois land, and many of the lakes still retain the names of the sub-tribes that belong there, such as Seneca and Cayuga.

Countless years ago the area was thickly forested with oak, hickory, maple and chestnut trees. However, the Iroquois burned-off the flatter areas to create a large prairie on which to run a large herd of bison. The area was still pretty with lush, wooded hills and clumps of trees clustered around the lakes. Today herds of dairy cows have replaced the bison, along with endless rows upon rows of vegetable crops and grapevines. Sadly we had a plane to catch and there was no time to stop and sup the local vintage.
Photo/map credit: http://www.fingerlakes.com/

Around an hour later we found a motel with trucks outside. Truck drivers always go for value and we weren’t disappointed with our basic, clean and comfortable room, which was a good price. Amazingly, we had our own coffee-making machine right in our room, with all the ingredients provided.

We had a big sort out of our gear and repacked to be ready for our departure from USA in the morning. I am a bit of a squirrel when it comes to tourist information and brochures. I just love to read up on any area I am in and then keep all the leaflets as a reminder of a visit. But, tonight, I had to be ruthless. Once we returned the rental car, we could only carry what would fit into our bags. It was either my clothes or the tourist brochures and, fetching as those coloured leaflets were, they had to go.

We had a restless night, thinking about the drive and day ahead and we were up and gone before 8am.

We kept well away from toll routes and enjoyed the scenery on parkway roads until we were almost into New York City. The parkways were aptly named and allowed us drive among the trees, while the ugly suburbs and city areas are well hidden. We made good time and stopped for an early lunch. We were down to our last few dollars.

Before we ordered our meal we looked at the map, noting we had one last toll bridge to cross. All toll bridges had cost us either $1, or $1.50 at the most, in this part of the States. We calculated the meal price and the bridge toll. TH wanted to tip the waitress as is customary in USA, but I hate this practice as I feel that it allows employers to exploit their staff by only paying a pathetically small wage. I prefer New Zealand’s system where employers must pay a minimum living wage, so workers are not reliant on tips in order to live. Tipping is still not common in NZ and long may that continue.

However, TH is a great one for “when in Rome” and so we did end up tipping the waitress after our meal. That left us with just $US2.84. Now, there will be some who ask why we skinned ourselves so short. Well, this was an expedition on a shoestring and everything was tight. Due to the costs of changing currencies, we hated having too much local money remaining when we left a country. We thought we had enough and we did have those marvellous gold MasterCards. Yeah right!

Just over an hour later we were on the access way to the last toll bridge – the Whitestone Bridge. There was a traffic jam and we were only making slow progress. However, we had over two hours to travel to JFK International airport and we estimated that it would only take ½ hour once we had crossed this bridge. We inched closer to the tollbooths.
(Photo from wirednewyork.com.)

TH has sharper eyes than I do over long distance. “Oh, no”, I heard him mutter.

“What is it?” I asked

“The sign says it’s $3.50 for cars. How much did you say we had?”

“$2.84. I told you not to tip that waitress!”

There was silence while I searched for coins down the sides and underneath the seats, but I had no luck. I did have one British pound as well as thirty-five Canadian cents in my wallet, but I didn’t think they’d accept that. We had already passed the last off-ramp before the toll bridge, so there was no chance to get off the motorway. We were stuck fast, almost at a complete halt, and I sized up our neighbouring motorists. I idly considered asking one, “Hey buddy, can you spare a dime (or 7)?” But, they all looked pretty angry to be in a traffic jam, and I didn’t pursue that idea.

Instead of wishing the traffic would hurry up like we had been doing, we now hoped for further delays, so we could think of another solution.

“We do have our gold credit card”, I said to TH in a hopeful fashion. This had worked wonders at the Canadian border.
http://eventfulwoman.blogspot.com/2005/08/road-to-canada-is-paved-with-gold.html

We considered all options but the card still came out as our only hope. If they didn’t accept that, what would happen? No doubt there would be delays and we might even miss our flight. Surely we wouldn’t get arrested?

We looked ahead to see if any cars stopped at the booths without money. Everyone had their $3.50, handed it over and zoomed on through. Four cars to go, then three, then two and we were there.

TH had prepared his best smile and hangdog look.
“Do you take credit cards? I don’t have enough cash.”
He waved our gold card in what he hoped was a friendly manner.

The toll collector screamed at him for not having money, for wasting her time and holding up her line of cars. She then growled that she wanted his driver’s licence and the registration number of his car. TH hurriedly handed over his New Zealand and International driver’s licences and stammered out our car’s licence plate number.

“Get over there and wait for the sheriff”, she screamed some more, and pointed to a waiting bay to the right. Poor TH had to edge our Chevrolet through several lanes of tooting and annoyed motorists to get there.

We waited in the hot sun for ten minutes and I watched the second hand on my watch circle around the dial. TH just sat. We didn’t know what to say to each other and we didn’t dare speculate on what the sheriff was going to do to us.

We were parked with the car nose into the waiting bay. TH had his eyes on the rear vision mirror, watching the door of the building behind us. Suddenly he sat up straight, “Here he comes.”

I turned in the seat. The sheriff was in a uniform, was around mid-height, middle aged, had his hair tied back in a ponytail and, of course, had a gun in a holster on his right side. He was sifting through some papers, as he walked towards us. I recognised one of them as a New Zealand Driver’s Licence.

Looking stern, he leaned down into TH’s window and said, “We know the car is a rental and it’s obvious from these documents that you’re tourists. Where are you headed?”

“JFK International”.

We also added that we were sorry we had underestimated the price of this last toll bridge.

He nodded. He’d probably already figured our destination, as it wasn’t that far away. He continued, “I’ve never seen a New Zealand Driver’s Licence before but it looks legitimate. However, what is this?” He held out TH’s Rover Car Club of Auckland membership card.

In the scramble to give his licence to the screeching tollbooth woman, TH had also accidentally pulled out his Rover Car Club card as well. Rover cars weren’t common in the States. We explained that we owned two classic Rover cars at home and what they looked like.

The sheriff looked very interested in all this. Then he said, “We want you to have had a good time in New York with no bad feelings. Just give us the money you have and you can be on your way.”

TH gave him the $2 in notes while I scrabbled with the coins.

“Just the $2 will be fine, ma’am”. He gave me a kindly look.

Dazed, and very relieved, we stammered out thanks and drove off before he could change his mind.

We were at the rental car depot in less than half an hour and took the shuttle bus to our air terminal. It was a huge “mad house” of an airport and the shuttle driver used his horn more than any other device on the vehicle.

After check in, we scooted straight to the departure lounge. With only eighty-four cents left there was no point lingering in the airport shops. Last night I had written a postcard to my cousin Susan, which I already had a stamp for but had forgotten to post on the way to the airport. I couldn't see a post box and I asked one of the security personnel for their location. He advised that there weren’t any mail drops on the air side of the terminal. Seeing my disappointed face, he offered to post it for me, when he got off his shift. I was delighted and thanked him very much.

“My pleasure, ma’am” he replied. I noted his New York accent.

Waiting for our plane I reflected on our experiences that day. New Yorkers are heaps better than their bad press suggests - apart from tollbooth operators, of course. I had learned that the world is a better place than I thought and people can be more understanding and kind than expected. As such, I should learn to trust that it was possible to negotiate a safe path in difficult times and this probably would be the same in other countries, too.

http://www.iloveny.com/home.aspx

New York had been a good learning opportunity. As they say, New York – what a town!

As for the next leg of the expedition – bring it on!

© Eventful Woman, 2008

Want to keep up with Eventful Woman? She can notify you as soon as she has updated her blog. This is a FREE service. Please email her on eventfulwoman@clear.net.nz and type “update ASAP” in the subject line

Falling Back Through Time

2008-07-02T21:43:00.007+12:00

Land Rover Expedition Time: 18th May 1998

Our departure date to leave North America was looming fast. We had to get back on the road and, as always, that uncomfortable, familiar feeling was back – apprehension battled with anticipation; the fear of the unknown wrestled with the lure of the adventure ahead.

I wasn’t looking forward to navigating to JKF International airport via New York City. But, we would have a treat on the way - the majestic Niagara Falls. I had already been awed by these on a previous trip to Canada and they were definitely a "must see" for a second look. TH had never seen them and had endured my constant raving when I returned home from that earlier trip.
http://www.niagarafallsstatepark.com/

Niagara Falls are actually three falls – The American, the Bridal Veil and the magnificent Horseshoe Falls where the rumbling, great, green waters constantly roar over the edge. The Horseshoe Falls are best viewed from the Canadian side. Standing there, I could feel the raw power of them and their thunder pounded my ears.

My brain flashed irrational messages to stand back, as if I might suddenly get sucked into the water and flung over the edge. Maybe the compelling beauty of Niagara Falls kept me standing there, or maybe it was the power of Roger.

Roger was my date with the past. Up until 1998, only two living things had been seen to go over the Falls (without special protection) and survive - a dog in the 1800's and Roger Woodward on 9th of July in 1960.

Some call it the "Miracle at Niagara", when 7-year-old Roger and his older sister, 17-year-old Deanne, survived certain death. The siblings and an older family friend had been enjoying an outing in a small boat several kilometres up river. The motor failed and the little rowboat was swept along in the swift current. They were all thrown out in the turbulence before the falls.

Chance swept Deanne towards the observation platform on the American side, which jutted over the edge of the Falls. Her cries for help alerted the tourists. There was just enough time for them to lean over the railings and to snatch her out in the few seconds she was nearest to them. Her brother, the family-friend and the boat hurtled over the falls. The man was killed, the boat smashed to pieces, but Roger somehow survived with only a few scratches. He was plucked from the roiling waters beneath the Horseshoe Falls, after grabbing a life ring thrown by the crew of one of the "Maid of the Mist" boats that scud about near the base of the falls. His survival made news throughout the world.

Back in 1960, I couldn’t read as I wasn’t yet at school, and New Zealand didn’t have television then. I remained ignorant of Roger’s amazing story until I was aged ten. I can still recall that rainy lunch hour, sitting in my classroom in Standard Four, with an old magazine spread out on my desk. For once, my sandwiches were forgotten. I read, and re-read the story, staring at the images of Niagara Falls. Even in black & white I could see the mighty power of the water.

Enthralled and excited by this tale, I thumbed through an atlas to discover where the Falls were. Canada, painted Empire red on the map, was separated from USA by a straight borderline, before the border wiggled around the Great Lakes area. My finger briefly rested at the oddly named town of Buffalo, and then moved up to where the magic words "Niagara Falls" were written. I made it my goal right then to go there. It took me nearly thirty years and, here I was back again a few years later. I stood near the edge of the falls and thought about the boy who drew me there. Just wondering how he survived that punishing torrent gives me goose bumps.

Google was not available in 1998, but now writing this in 2008, google has been a useful tool in finding out "whatever happened to Roger". Despite the media glare at the time, it’s wonderful to know that Roger has gone on to have a normal life with his own family, although he has cheated death twice since 1960:
http://www.triviaguys.com/whtexam.htm
or
http://community.seattletimes.nwsource.com/archive/?date=19981126&slug=2785592

In October 2003, Kirk Jones intentionally went over the Falls without a protective device of any kind and survived. He was immediately taken into custody by the Niagara Parks Police and charged with stunting. Jones had to pay a large fine upon being found guilty in court of criminal mischief and for violating the Niagara Parks Act.

I had no intention of falling or diving into Niagara Falls. Although I love surfing, the thought of being in this roaring water terrified me. However, when I wasn’t directly next to the edge of the falls I was quite fearless. From my previous visit, I had tried out nearly every daredevil ride possible, except for rocketing over the falls in a barrel, of course.

TH and I took a trip on my No.1 favourite – the Maid of the Mist boat. Standing on the deck, very close to the base of the falls, the drenching spray and water’s rush seems too much for the boat to keep afloat. The lightweight little blue plastic "raincoats" that everyone is given to wear are almost useless.

But, the best bit is when the captain slows the boat to announce: "This is the exact spot we picked up young Roger". There is hush from the squealing excited patrons and they stare at the broiling water and shiver at the odds he had to overcome to survive. Thank you, Roger, for helping to give me a love of life. Every day above ground is good, no matter how silly I look in a wet plastic-bag of a raincoat.

The next thrill of our visit was at the Imax theatre. To give the idea of what it is like to go over the falls in a barrel, they somehow managed to get a camera to survive a real fall in a barrel. When they show this part of the film on the giant Imax screen, your eyes tell you that you are actually going over the falls. It was fabulous and real "shriek territory". Imax also ran a dramatisation of the "boy over the falls" story and I was back to being an awed 10-year-old again. I realised then that, apart from the usual child's dream of going to Disneyland, Niagara Falls had been my first ever conscious travel goal to a far-off destination.

© Eventful Woman, 2008
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Lost in Translation

2008-06-26T15:38:00.013+12:00

Land Rover Expedition Time: Mid May 1998

We’d scored a "contentment troika" - a two-night stop, a cat to pat and beautiful scenery. We settled into a cute little holiday cottage on a sheltered bay in Maine, near Acadia National Park. As well as sightseeing, we had time to wash our clothes and clear emails, while the on-site tabby rubbed around our legs. Each night the moon rose a buttery salmon colour over the bay, mirrored on its still waters. When I described this to TH one night, thinking I was being romantic, he said that I must think about food all day. He was right, of course, but this didn’t mean I wasn’t romantic as well.

We toured Mount Desert Island, which is the largest island within the Acadia network. The Bass Harbour Lighthouse crouches on the southern most tip of this Island.

The land finishes in chunky slabs of pinky-golden granite, with the Atlantic crashing against them. They were like a jagged margin of giant stepping stones and I had to take huge strides, leaps really, to walk along them.

http://www.nps.gov/acad/index.htm

After this brief sojourn, we resumed our journey heading north towards Canada. On our way we tracked down two remote Land Rover parts dealers - one in Maine and the other in Vermont. Providing parts, restoration and tours provided the owners with a reasonable living, as well as a good life style. Most of the work happened over the nine warmer months of the year, and in the worst of the winter, they toured warmer climes in their Land Rovers.

TH fossicked amongst their stock to find some extra items that could be handy for our expedition.

Over coffee at one of these stops, we asked what the sign "Frost Heaves" meant. We had seen the first of these near Cape Cod, then several since and wondered what they meant. Our hosts looked surprised that we didn’t know and advised that these were warnings about uneven surfaces in the road. They explained that, if rainwater settled into cracks in the road and then froze, due to a heavy frost over night, then the road would buckle upwards from the expansion of the water turning into ice.

New Zealand has a more temperate climate, so we had never encountered this phenomenon before. Most of the recent backcountry roads we had travelled on were uneven, so we hadn’t really noticed extra upheavals. And, of course, with my love of language, and its proper usage, I still hadn’t quite got used American practice of turning verbs into nouns. I had always regarded "heaves" as a verb, as is usual. Up until then, whenever I saw the signs, I had read them out to TH and asked, "But, what does frost heave?"

We stopped for lunch at one of those truckers’ cafés, which always provide big meals at cheap prices. There was a sign by the cash register: "We cash personal checks [cheques] up to a maximum of $20 if you have six pieces if ID and leave a $50 cash deposit until the check [cheque] clears."

On Maine’s northwestern boundary to New Hampshire a sign welcomed us: "Brake for Moose. It could save your life. Hundreds of collisions". And, of course, there again was the sign with New Hampshire’s proud slogan: "The Granite State". With the collision warning, I wondered if the moose were made of granite, too. Fortunately, we never got to find out.

Up-state New Hampshire and Vermont is really pretty with its rolling green hills and picturesque red barns. It was beautiful day, like that of a postcard. In fact, any moment I expected to come to the edge of the postcard and into a rainy, grey day. But, the sun and scenery were all for real. Either that or it was the biggest postcard in the world.

However, I did wonder if the women we overheard later in a restaurant were for real. They talked their entire meal about house furnishings, and particularly on the vexed question of linoleum versus tiles. While eavesdropping, I wrote one of their best utterances on a serviette:
"Although I have tiles I sometimes get jealous of those who have linoleum, as it’s so much easier to clean. Then again, I have tiles because they are so much nicer."

I could imagine a future group of Miss World contestants chattering about the next genuine cause – keeping tiles clean – rather than wasting any more time on world peace, cures for cancer and saving the whales.

We filled up on cheap American petrol just before the Canadian border. We were asked a number of questions by Canadian Immigration officials, but nothing like the rigmarole of the previous border crossing into Canada on the West Coast:
http://eventfulwoman.blogspot.com/2005/08/road-to-canada-is-paved-with-gold.html It seems that having a tame, regular rental car does not raise eyebrows as much as an old Land Rover does.

We were now in the province of Québec and it seemed rather odd to suddenly encounter French signs while still in North America. We had got used to bi-lingual English/French in British Columbia, but it appeared that only the English speaking part of Canada was required to be bi-lingual. The French Canadians seem to have inherited the traits of their Gaullic ancestors and decided that they didn’t need to bother with bi-lingual signs.

This arrogance also applied to business brand names. Kentucky Fried Chicken had buckled under the pressure to re-brand as Poulet Fritte Kentucky in this part of Canada. But, now that Kentucky Fried Chicken had re-branded across the world as KFC, they had the global meaninglessness of PFK in Québec.

I remembered the Montreal business students we had met, while they were on holiday in Cape Cod. They told us that they were very concerned that the strict French language code, even for global branded companies, was driving business away from Quebec.

If we remained here, Eventful Woman would have to become femme mouvementée and "the husband" would turn into LM (le mari).

Although I can read French, we decided to do our bit for the English language business-branding cause, and to keep driving west until we found a bi-lingual sign for accommodation. We both agreed the defiance was worth it, even if this meant breaking our "5 pm find-a-bed-for-the-night" rule. Fortunately, we were not kept up too late, as the first we found was only after we had driven over the provincial line into Ontario. Then, many bi-lingual signs miraculously reappeared. We found a quiet motel with an attached restaurant, which had a reasonably priced banquet meal. We stuffed ourselves full to celebrate our business acumen.

The next day we cruised along Route 2, by the Great Lakes St Lawrence Seaway. This is a deep draft waterway extending 3,700 km (2,340 miles) from the Atlantic Ocean to the head of the Great Lakes. We stopped at The Iroquois Lock to watch the ship, "Canadian Progress", trundle through. I was very impressed how this huge ship was manoeuvred within such a tight space.

The distance between the lock gates was 285 metres (934 ft) and the lock was 24.5 metres (80 ft) across. The biggest ship they could handle was 222.5 metres (730 ft) long and had a beam of 23 metres (75ft 6 ins).
http://www.greatlakes-seaway.com/

The weather had been warming up in the last few days and now it was quite humid. The back seat of our rental Chevrolet was piled with our jackets and jerseys. We had fortunately thought to put one pair of shorts each into our holiday bag. The rest we had left in the Land Rover for shipping. We were hot and sticky by the time we arrived at our Canadian friends, Lander and Terri, who lived in Hamilton, Ontario. There were hugs all around and we were soon slurping cool drinks.

We had met Lander while he was hitchhiking his way through New Zealand. He was doing his "O.E." (overseas experience/holiday) while Terri, then his girlfriend, was finishing her PhD. A classic car friend of ours had been on a car rally in Christchurch, without a navigator. When he saw Lander standing on the side of the road, taking photos of all the classic cars zooming past, our friend had stopped and asked him if was any good at navigating. He was, and they finished the entire rally together. Later, our friend and Lander cruised up to Auckland together. They stayed with us, and we have kept in touch with Lander ever since.

Lander and Terri provided a 2-day holiday haven. Most of the time was spent talking, eating and drinking. We also caught up on washing, photo processing and emails. As we were in a rental car, we didn’t have to spend our precious leisure time on vehicle maintenance. Hoo-bloody-ray!

© Eventful Woman, 2008
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Hogs and Sea-dogs

2008-02-06T15:11:00.001+13:00

Land Rover Expedition Time: Early - Mid May 1998

As Cape Cod shrank in our rear vision mirror, I couldn’t help wishing we had longer there. But, we had made it our goal to get up to Maine during this trip and we still had some distance to go.

It was perhaps unwise to have taken on such an ambitious goal, especially as we wanted to also visit our friends in Canada. We had been through considerable stress over the last few months and probably we should have taken it easy and built-in few more two-night stops. But, that’s the trap with travel. Although we hoped to return to this area one day, there is no certainty that time or money would be available in the future to do so. So, we pushed ourselves in the time we had now. And, of course, roaring along in a modern rental car, with no camping to worry about, we were seduced by the freedom.

Being constantly on the road, we had also got out of synch with the week days/weekend regime of working people. It had been easy to find cheap and pleasant accommodation over the past few days, and we had grown complacent. It was a Friday evening. As we headed for Plymouth looking for accommodation, we didn’t know that thousands of Americans would be pouring off planes at that moment in Boston and other major centres nearby, looking forward to some well-earned and pre-booked R & R in the Plymouth/Cape Cod area.

We drove around the main tourist area of Plymouth but there were no motel vacancies. We headed north and still had no luck. Rather than drive further into the unknown, we drove back to Plymouth and found an old motel that had one unit left. It was expensive. And yes, of course, it smelled of stale cigarette smoke. It was 8 pm and, as there were no other vacancies, we had no choice.

It was late, we were tired and hungry and we were stuck with sub-standard accommodation. This had happened all too often in the past and TH and I had quite a scrap. We each blamed the other for the predicament we were in. Eventually it was resolved by having some dinner. My personal motto is: “On a full stomach anything is possible.” I always view the world in a better light if I am not hungry. We agreed over dinner that we had become “mileage junkies” and we had both been responsible for breaking our previous rule of finding accommodation by 5 pm. We also decided on a two-night stop as soon as we reached Maine.

Back at the motel I tried to ring my friend Robyn, who was home in New Zealand. It would have been about 2pm the next day over there and her University graduation ceremony was scheduled for that evening. There was no reply from her 'phone and I realised she must have already left home was probably enjoying a splendid lunch. How I wished I was there, instead of in this grotty motel.

We perked up considerably the next day when we successfully navigated our way through what was listed in our guidebooks as the notoriously difficult streets of Boston. The weather was drizzly, so we decided on a tour of the USS Constitution – the oldest commissioned navy ship still in existence and nicknamed “Old Ironsides” due to its solid construction. In a gob-smacking stroke of luck, the USS Constitution Museum was having a special promotion - the museum, the parking outside and the guided tour of the ship was all free. “Hooray”, we said, “let’s stay all day”. Well, we couldn’t because the parking was only for four hours, but it proved to be just the right amount of time.

A young navy seaman had been press-ganged from his other duties to give a tour of the ship. He was a bit nervous, constantly shifting from one foot to another. Eventually he got into his stride and became more confident.

The USS Constitution was built in the 1790’s and was named after America’s founding document (The U.S. Constitution), which had been adopted in 1787. Built using the resilient timber of 2,000 oak trees, USS Constitution’s planks were up to seven inches (178 mm) thick. As a pig fancier, I was fascinated to hear that the ship's unique diagonal, cross-bracing hull design also prevented “hogging”. Hogging turned out to be a nautical term used to describe the bending upwards of a ship’s hull (or keel) when under stress in big waves. Too much hogging and the hull could snap, sinking the ship. I guess everyone would then have to swim to save their own bacon.

Photo credit: http://www.ussconstitution.navy.mil/index.htm

One of our guide’s fellow seamen had crept up to our tour group when our guide was distracted and suggested we sing “Happy Birthday” to him, adding that it would make him feel better about working on his birthday. The compliant crowd was happy to co-operate and the poor sod looked at first completely amazed, and then sheepish, trying to hide his blushing face.

I asked him later when his real birthday was. He asked how I knew it wasn’t today. Well, the guilty blush was one big clue. However, I told him he had instinctively looked behind him, looking for the birthday person, when we started singing.

While the drizzle had held off during the open deck part of the tour, the rain set in once we had finished. It was too wet for a walking tour of the waterfront area, that we had hoped for, and the forecast was predicting more rain for tomorrow. We decided to get back on the road and aim for Maine. Sometimes you have to accept that you can’t do it all. There’s always the hope that we might get back to this beautiful city one day and, probably, there will still be walking tours on offer then.

We bounded over the State line to New Hampshire, noting the official nickname hewn out in a large slab of stone "The Granite State". We also noticed that many of the number plates (license plates) on vehicles had the State motto: "Live Free or Die".

True to our renewed promise, we started looking for a motel at 5 pm in Hampton. I spotted a nice looking one when I was peering down a side street. We took a few wrong turns to get back there and ended up trundling through what looked like a deserted old car yard.

We took it slow, as there was a lot of glass and old bits of car scattered about. Suddenly the door flew open of an old shack on the grounds. A woman, who was surprisingly well dressed, strode out into the squalor and started hurling abuse at us. We were on HER private property and she thought that we were also driving too fast. She was worried about the safety of her dogs. I noticed some yappy, hairy, four-legged things milling about her feet. We tried to explain that we had simply made a mistake and had taken a wrong turning. She wasn’t having any of that and screamed more abuse. She blocked our path forward and so TH had to do a three-point turn in a really tight area to get out of there, using the same "road" that we had came into the car yard on. The dogs, upset by their owner’s behaviour, yapped frantically and skittishly raced around our wheels. Thankfully, we didn’t squish any.

We laughed with relief when we got out of there. If she’d kept the mutts inside, instead of letting them out when she launched her tirade, they would have been much safer. I suppose she was letting them "live free or die" while also clearly demonstrating what New Hampshire prides itself on - being rock hard and self-sufficient. It was a big change to how we had been treated in the Land Rover everywhere else in USA. But, I guess we were now just common tourists, taking one wrong-turn too many and upsetting the locals.

Fortunately, the motel had vacancies and we settled in. I telephoned Robyn. Her graduation had been fabulous and, yes, she’d been having a long, happy lunch when I had called and left my message the day before.

Relaxing on the bed, I continued reading my Henry Beston book. I thought of him in his Outermost House, which was a scarce 20 feet above the high water mark. I was surprised it had taken as long as 50 years before the sea claimed the house. http://www.henrybeston.org/rebuild.htm

In the middle of my gypsy existence, I envied Henry his year of stasis. Even with the sea growling at his front door, it must have been wonderful to just stay on one place each night.

© Eventful Woman, 2008

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The moving finger writes, and having writ, moves on

2007-11-26T16:05:00.000+13:00

Land Rover Expedition Time: Early May 1998
Photo: Inconspicuous rental car

We were back to being ordinary Mr and Mrs TH. Travelling in a "plain clothes" standard rental car meant we were completely incognito. No one noticed us, we could stop off where we liked without being mobbed by people, and we could "slob about" how we liked. While we always happy to be our sponsors’ ambassadors while in the Land Rover, it was terrific having the pressure off us.

This was going to be a real holiday. How wonderful it was to sleep in and have the day open up without responsibilities or commitments, combined with a fast car to chew up the miles.

We drove on through Connecticut and stopped in Bridgeport at the Barnum Museum. http://www.barnum-museum.org/core.htm
The museum, which is a very attractive and unusual looking building, features the enormous collection of Phineas Taylor (PT) Barnum. The museum is also committed to the preservation and interpretation of Bridgeport's industrial and social history.

Photo Credit: Barnum Museum

PT Barnum didn’t actually say, "There’s a sucker born every minute". He did admit that his hoaxes or "humbugs" were "advertisements to draw attention...to the Museum. I don't believe in duping the public, but I believe in first attracting and then pleasing them."

Looking at the exhibits and reading his philosophies I can believe it. He believed that every sales transaction should be a win/win for both customer and salesperson. He is often misquoted or misunderstood by erroneous assumptions that he traded in hokum at any price. He always maintained that you could only get away with deceit if the public accepted it was false and they had the opportunity to be entertained or educated in the process. I don’t think I could 100% subscribe to that sort of blarney in a sales career, but I understood what he was saying, especially when applied to his entertainment businesses. Every salesperson and entertainer should visit this place or at least read his autobiography. ("The Life of P. T. Barnum" written by himself, or his book "The Art of Money Getting" by P.T Barnum)

Barnum didn’t get into circus life until he was in his 60’s. He launched the fabulously titled: "P. T. Barnum's Grand Travelling Museum, Menagerie, Caravan & Hippodrome" in the 1870’s. He was a consumate self-promoter, marketer and showman. I wondered if I should re-title our expedition and launch it immediately for some lucrative American funding.

Later again, Barnum successfully arranged and promoted the American tour of Jenny Lind, a Swedish opera soprano, proving again that he was a marketing "supremo".

Much as I had to learn from PT Barnum, there was another institution I wanted to visit while in Connecticut. As a recent Masters graduate from university, I wanted to tour one of the great American East Coast university campuses and Yale was nearby. http://www.yale.edu/about/index.html

We called in at the Yale University visitor centre on arrival at New Haven and booked ourselves onto their walking tour in the morning. We found a lovely motel nearby and I lay on the bed in the late afternoon sunshine, reading a magazine. I couldn’t remember the last time I had done this - never in the last two months. Maybe not even in the last few months I had spent at home preparing for the expedition. I stretched out like a happy baby, gurgling in the sunshine.

The pleasure continued into the night when thunder awoke me. I remember thinking, "who cares, we don’t have to pack up a wet tent in the morning" and then rolling over back to sleep with a huge contented sigh.

The American equivalent of a continental breakfast at this motel was coffee and doughnuts. While this was provided free at the motel office and I enjoyed the rare chance to have a hot drink in the morning, I missed my cups of tea. So few motels in USA had tea or even coffee making facilities that I wished we had brought along our tiny, one ring burner, so we could regularly indulge in "brew ups". A few days later, I got into the ghastly habit of drinking cola in the mornings. I was bored with water and the cola ensured I took on enough liquid.

Yale was a very attractive looking university. It was built from mainly honey coloured stone, in a neo-gothic style. Some of the older buildings were constructed in the early 1700’s in more traditional red brick.

Photo Credit: Yale University

When the neo-gothic buildings were erected in the 1920’s the architect, in some sort of bizarre cultural cringe, had acid poured down the walls to artificially age them. The masonry was deliberately chipped and cracks were purposely made in the lead lights and then "fixed". All this was to emulate the truly aged buildings, such as those in Oxford or Cambridge in England. It resulted in rapid deterioration of the buildings, which had then cost millions of dollars in repairs in the 1960’s. Speaking of things that are expensive, I fell into chat with the student guide on his fees to study at Yale. He told me that he paid $US30, 000 per year for a three year bachelor degree. When I told him how much cheaper the same degree cost in New Zealand he was incredulous and very envious.

At Yale’s war memorial, I could see a similarity between its design and that of the Vietnam Memorial Monument in Washington DC. Refer to earlier blog entry:

http://eventfulwoman.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-am-not-much-into-boats-but-most-girls.html

In fact, it had been a Yale student who had won the design competition for the Vietnam Memorial. She had initially drawn up her designs for a university assignment, but had only received a B grading from her professor. Undaunted, she had entered it into the national competition for the memorial at Washington DC. This sort of thing is always subjective.

We left Yale and hit the road for Cape Cod. I saw one amusing sign, which was for recycled children’s clothes on our way – "re-run for wee ones". We whizzed through one of America’s smallest States, Rhode Island, and then drove across two amazing, soaring bridges into Massachusetts. The second one was three miles long and we disappeared into sea fog part way along it.

Cape Cod is an up-turned comma of land that juts, like an arm flexing its muscles, out into the Atlantic. On the sheltered Cape Cod Bay side is quiet tidal waters. On the other side of the "arm", is the wild Atlantic surf. The mighty surf erodes this side of the Cape by 3ft a year. The sand is deposited back onto the sheltered side.

I love the sea and, at the first tang of salt spray, I suddenly realised how much I had missed it.

I took off my shoes and socks, and shocked all but the wet-suited surfers by paddling in the icy waters. The surf reminded me of Oakura Beach, where my family used to camp every year, not far from my childhood home in New Plymouth.
How I wished I could have got my hands on a surfboard and given those breakers at Cape Cod a really good run.

At Coast Guard Beach near Eastham I was again staring longingly at the waves. If I turned, I could look back over to the quieter estuary. Strong feelings washed over me along with the urge to remain here and to write. Had I forgotten New Mexico already? (Refer earlier blog entry):

http://eventfulwoman.blogspot.com/2006/10/new-mexico-land-of-enchantment.html

At the Visitor Centre I learned about the writer Henry Beston, who wrote the now legendary "The Outermost House." At almost the exact spot where I had been standing at Coast Guard Beach, overwhelmed with the compulsion to write, Henry had spent a whole year doing just that. Between 1926 – 1927 he lived and wrote in a little cottage, which he called "the Fo'castle", and which was perched in the dunes and not far from the high tide mark.

When he arrived at this beach, Henry's intention had been to take a two-week break to write about nature and the sea. The call of the surf lured him to stay on longer. That was something I could really relate to. I thought desperately about staying on here for a year, instead of driving around the world in a Land Rover. It was not the first time I entertained these thoughts, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Beston talks about why he stayed on longer at the beach, in his book: "The world today is sick to its thin blood for lack of elemental things, for fire before the hands, for water welling up from the earth, for air, for the dear earth itself underfoot… The longer I stayed, the more eager was I to know this coast and to share its mysterious and elemental life."

I read this passage with great excitement, the book clutched in my hands, and with an intense desire to see Henry’s little writing house. Sadly, it had been claimed by the huge high tide during a furious storm in February 1978. I was twenty years too late. I bought the next best thing - a copy of the book, with a photo of "the Fo'castle" on the cover. I had a job to complete – the expedition. But, I promised myself that I would keeping writing and I would also return to this spot one day.

Since my visit to Cape Cod, two organisations have been formed.
The Henry Beston Society, established in 2002, which celebrates Henry’s nature writing and his life at Coast Guard Beach. They have plans to re-build a replica of The Outermost House.
http://www.henrybeston.org/rebuild.htm

photo credit: The Henry Beston Society, Inc.
email: henrybestonsociety@yahoo.com

The Friends of Henry Beston, established in 2004, also focus on his writings and philosophy, but particularly on his life after Coast Guard Beach, when he lived and wrote at Chimney Farm in Nobleboro, Maine.
http://www.henrybeston.com/about.html

By now, a sea mist had rolled in, but we continued further along the coast. The old Cape Cod Lighthouse had been saved from the clutches of the sea. It had recently been moved from the eroding shoreline at a cost of millions.

Lighthouses are no longer considered necessary in these modern times of radar and sonar equipped vessels. Left alone, it would have since fallen into the ocean. The local historical society campaigned for five years to save it. They raised over $US130,000 themselves and had convinced businesses, local and federal Government to provide the rest of the funding. The Lighthouse is an iconic landmark for Cape Cod. Let’s hope the Henry Beston Society can achieve the same thing.

The Lighthouse’s Visitor Centre sells a number of items to fund their on-going operational costs. I bought some of their dried cranberries to eat while watching the video of the Lighthouse’s story. Cranberries grow best in salt wind. The ones I was eating, which were delicious, had been harvested in nearby Plymouth.

For a thin curl of land, Cape Cod had a lot to see.

Marconi’s first transmission crackled across the airwaves from here and, of course, this is where the American pilgrims on the "Mayflower" actually made their first landing. While Plymouth makes the biggest claim on the official landing site, and it is agreed that the Mayflower was indeed headed there, a storm drove the ship into Provincetown Harbour. Using the Cape Cod "strong arm" simile, this harbour lies in what would be the curve of the palm and fingers.

It was getting late and we also headed towards Plymouth for the night. This town was named after the English one, just like my old home-town of New Plymouth. Plymouth (England) was where some of my forebears originated from in the 1840’s. Maybe I shared some ancestry with the citizens of Plymouth, MA? I wondered if there was a way of finding that out. I looked forward to doing an investigation and also to an early night, curled up with "The Outermost House".

On our way to Plymouth, we drove past a traffic warning sign we had never seen before: "Yield to Rotary Traffic". We wondered what on earth we were going to come across – a platoon of lawn mowers, maybe a fleet of Mazda rotary cars, or even the local chapter of the Rotary service organisation on a mission? But, it was a simple "Give Way" on a roundabout. These round traffic islands are common in New Zealand, but not so in USA. This was the first one we had encountered on the entire trip and we drove around it several times, just for fun.

© Eventful Woman, 2007
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The End of the Beginning

2007-10-21T12:12:00.000+13:00

Land Rover Expedition Time: Early May 1998
Photo: Our entire expedition possessions

Sorting out belongings – what to take and what leave – was a job I hated, due to the warring factions within me. From my father I had inherited spirited "don’t worry/everything will be alright on the day" qualities, whereas from my mother I had been blessed with the opposite: "best to be safe than sorry/always be prepared". All morning conflicting messages blasted from one side of my brain to the other as I shuffled my possessions between two piles.

It was the morning after our function at the New Zealand Embassy and our last full day with J and N. We were preparing the Land Rover and us for transport to England, in a few days time.

The plan was to get the vehicles to our shipping agent, Kuehne & Nagel, in New Jersey. http://www.kn-portal.com/ Then, TH and I were going to hire a car for ten days touring the New England States, and calling on friends in Canada. F1 and F2 had decided to fly on ahead to UK.

J and N were hosting a farewell party, where their neighbours and many of the people we had met over the last week could gather to wish us "Bon Voyage". They had generously invited F1 and F2, as well. But, having isolated themselves in a remote campsite in Maryland, and not being part of the previous week’s happenings, F1 and F2 decided it wasn’t worth the hour’s drive to get to where we were. They suggested they go on ahead and met us at Kuehne & Nagel on the agreed shipping date. After the embarrassment F2 caused the night before at the Embassy, I was relieved I didn’t have to see them.

Eventually, my two piles were settled. These were just personal items. One lot would be stowed inside the Land Rover, and the other was for our 10-day holiday. TH had sorted his hours earlier and had spent the rest of the time checking over the Land Rover, his camera gear, my lap top and all the required cables, plus some eating/cooking equipment.

Chores done, it was time for a relaxed and happy party with our friends and supporters. J and N were fantastic hosts and had not only organised the invitations, but contributed all the food and drink for the party.

It was time to move on again the next morning, after Jim’s visit to give us the commemorative Vietnam memorial gifts.
http://eventfulwoman.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-am-not-much-into-boats-but-most-girls.html
I gave N a big hug, snivelled (just a little) on J’s shoulder and we hit the road. We had two days and one night to travel a fairly short distance to New Jersey.

It should have been a breeze. We had a clear run through Baltimore and Philadelphia and started looking for a motel once we were on the eastern (New Jersey) side of Philadelphia, around 5:30 pm. I don’t know where we went wrong, but we couldn’t find anything other than overpriced Sheraton or Hyatt Hotels.

We stopped in desperation at a petrol station to ask about the proximity of motels. They directed us to the town of New Brunswick on Highway One. We searched desperately, ending up in Edison. All we could find there were scruffy, noisy places, within exhaust belching range of the Highway. It was now nine pm. We settled on the best looking of the bunch. The exhaust fumes mingled with the stale cigarette smell of the room. We were hungry and tired. We had packed some cereal for our last breakfast and we ate half of that, washed down with orange juice, saving the other half for the morning. All night the trucks roared past, shaking the building.

The only good thing was that we had made more progress towards the shipping yard, so it would be a shorter run on the morrow. Cold comfort, when a better night’s sleep and a good dinner, even with a longer run the next day, would have been preferred.

There was no chance of a sleep-in with the increasing racket of the traffic. We both had headaches from lack of sleep, and my legs throbbed from my restlessness during the night. We gagged down the rest of the cereal with the juice.

It was an easy drive to the New Jersey ports area of Bayonne. This was a real, run-down area, but probably not a lot different to working port areas in most countries. The directions that Kuehne and Nagel had given us were very clear to follow and soon we pulled into their yard. F1 and F2 were already there, sorting their gear out.

In New Zealand we had been allowed to drive the Land Rovers into their containers and fasten them down. Here the vessel would be roll-on and roll-off and it was not yet in port. Kuehne & Nagel would be looking after our "babies" in their locked yard until then. We checked and re-checked our gear and filled out numerous shipping forms. The K & N team helped us find a reasonably priced hotel in Jersey City and ordered a taxi for us to get there.

It was now the 4th May 1998, almost exactly two months since our departure from New Zealand on 3rd of February.
http://eventfulwoman.blogspot.com/2005/07/about-to-be-swamped-by-big-wave.html
So much had happened since then and I felt like I had done a full expedition already. Our Land Rover had been our mobile home for that time. I felt a real sense of loss and dislocation as we left it behind in the shipping yard. It had been such a part of me. It was my rock and security blanket. I turned round in the back seat of the taxi for a final longing look, until we were out of sight. I wondered if I would ever see it again.
Photo: Last view of the Land Rovers

Each team of two (F1 & F2 and ourselves) were uncomfortable with the other and we said little on the way to the hotel. The bedraggled port area fell behind us. Jersey City approached, but didn’t look much better. I laughed when I saw the slogan for New Jersey – "The Garden State". I couldn’t see any gardens, anywhere. Maybe it was a garden for something else – depression? Ugliness? Graffiti?
http://www.netstate.com/states/intro/nj_intro.htm

The hotel was a high rise "blah" of a building, near the Jersey Tunnel. At least with double-glazing it was relatively quiet. We made our arrangements for the next day. We all agreed to do a tourist bus tour of Manhattan in the morning. Then, F1 and F2 would fly out to England from John F Kennedy airport. TH and I arranged for a rental car for our holiday, which we’d collect the next day from nearby Newark airport. We crashed out for an early night.

Despite the early start, the bus tour of $US38 was well worth it. I would have paid most of that to listen to the sassy New York tour guide. Once we’d collected a number tourists from various Jersey City hotels, we took the tunnel over to New York State. The tour guide hopped aboard in Manhattan. He glanced around the bus and sneered, "Good Morning to you all from The Garden State. Have you seen any gardens over there yet?"

I don’t know how to describe someone who can be so delightfully sneering, but he kept up this New York brand of banter throughout the tour. He obviously loved his city and couldn’t help showing it, despite his sophistication. He punctuated his patter with all sorts of titbits and gossip about his town. I just loved this guy.

It was a drizzly, wet and cool morning. But, we packed a lot in. We learned about the early history, and then its first billionaires – the Rockefellers, the Roosevelts, the Vanderbilts, how the metro got built, and the first apartments.

We saw the spot John Lennon was killed outside of The Dakota apartments and we had a short walk in Central Park. The guide was proud of this area too and told us that, even with a name like Central Park it wasn’t just anywhere. It was uniquely associated with New York. He asked the group of twenty, and all Americans apart from us, if we could name a park anywhere else in the world that was as well known. I suggested Hyde Park. He sneered that he supposed I’d said that because I was British. I happily sneered back that I wasn’t. He snorted that he wasn’t so sure about that as I sounded English. Yeah, what did he know! However, he was already onto his next snippet of information. Despite the perceived reputation for crime, in fact Central Park has only 11 felony crimes for the 11 million visitors to the park each year.

An absolute highlight was the visit up the Empire State Building. This building is, to me, quintessential New York. http://www.nyctourist.com/empire1.htm
The lift went up and up for ages. On the observation deck, I looked down into the tunnels of streets. While the day was wet the view was still amazing.

There were lots and lots of yellow taxis. Apparently, only 1 in 5 people have their own personal cars and there are over 17,000 Yellow Cabs in New York City. A taxi licence, at that time, cost $US250, 000. Most drivers rented a cab for $US80.00 per day.

Back at ground level we drove on through Greenwich Village. Our tour guide pointed out a sign, which advertised ear piercing with or without pain. "With pain" was dearer.

We were allowed a quick wander into the famed St Patrick’s Cathedral and around the Rockefeller Centre area of tall art deco buildings. We had another chance to prove to our Tour Guide that we truly weren’t from Britain when he pointed out that this area had the largest collection of Art Deco buildings in the world. TH informed him that it might be the collection of LARGEST (tall) art deco buildings, but Napier in New Zealand, had the largest COLLECTION of art deco buildings.
The tour guide looked very doubtful at this.

Photo: The National Tobacco Company Building, by architect J.A. Louis Hay, completed 1933. Napier, New Zealand

The bus dropped us back at our Jersey City hotel in the early afternoon. F1 and F2 left for JFK Airport, and we took another taxi in the opposite direction to Newark airport and the car rental centre.

It took ages to complete the paperwork - longer than it took to fill out all the forms at Kuehne & Nagel to ship the Land Rovers. It was 4 o’clock when we pointed the hired Chevrolet’s nose north on the freeway out of town. We were very tired after two busy days and early starts. So, we agreed we’d drive for an hour just to get out into the countryside. For once our plan worked.

By five pm we’d found a lovely motel at Nyack, not far from the Hudson River. We’d had a proper feed at the nearby Chinese restaurant and were back in our nice, quiet room by seven.

Over dinner I finally relaxed. The first leg of the expedition had been nothing like I had expected, mainly due to the crap team dynamics. However, we had successfully planned an expedition, got it underway, driven across America in what the locals considered "antique jeeps", had been warmly greeted and helped by wonderful people, seen fabulous scenery and we hadn’t killed each other. That was definitely worth celebrating. What’s more, I was now in a warm, comfy bed and I wouldn’t have to pack up a wet tent for at least another ten nights. Now that was certainly celebration territory, too!

© Eventful Woman, 2007Want to keep up with Eventful Woman? She can notify you as soon as she has updated her blog. This is a FREE service. Please email her on eventfulwoman@clear.net.nz and type "update ASAP" in the subject line

Speaking for your Country

2007-10-15T17:01:00.000+13:00

Land Rover Expedition Time: 1st May 1998

I had a restless sleep. I was mulling over what I could say to F1 and F2. My instincts were to just tell them to p#$! off back home and that TH and I were better off without them. But, we needed that damn Series One Land Rover. I cursed the day that F1 had met F2. The expedition was blighted from that moment. Without her, it would have been just the three of us. We would have stayed together, rather than being in this sticky alternative position now. In hindsight, we should have just made the decision back in Tuba City to have just gone on without them.
http://eventfulwoman.blogspot.com/2006/08/big-is-beautiful.html
Or, for the sake of nicety, we could have stayed together until we got to England and then permanently separated after the 50th Anniversary functions over there.

As TH and I would end up with all the work obtaining the visas and medical supplies in England, while managing the sponsorship relationships and doing the entire route planning, it would have been so easy to have left F1 and F2 to sort out their own arrangements. It was likely that they'd never manage this on their own, and we would sail across 'The Channel' unencumbered. But, we felt we had to have a Series One Land Rover. The whole marketing and sponsorship of the expedition was based on this one vital component.

Around three in the morning I resolved that we’d have to somehow make a go of it together, all four of us. That said, I wasn’t going to let them off too easily. They would have to comply with all sponsorship arrangements in future and call in regularly, if we ever separated.

By the time F1 phoned in the morning, I was calm but very firm – their lack of communication and consideration had disappointed more than just TH and I and had compromised the credibility of the expedition. They were to meet us early at the New Zealand Embassy for our special function and they were to wear their Land Rover sponsored clothing, which needed to be clean. I conceded on the photo shoot. F1 wasn’t to know that the Embassy staff had already been in touch with me. It was pouring with rain, and unlikely to stop. The outdoors area we had planned to have the photo, near the Embassy, was now out of the question. The Ambassador had wondered if we could postpone the shoot. Of course, I had agreed.

TH had already left to spend the day in Washington DC to have another look at the Smithsonian Museums. We’d agreed that we would meet at the Embassy ahead of time. I would wash the promotional clothes we had worn at Land Rover North America last night and bring them, cleaned and pressed, for him to change into. He went off happy that he wouldn’t have me in tow, and he could linger as long as he wanted over old planes, engines and machinery.

I was so tired and needed to catch up on some sleep. I also wanted to review the speech that I was to give that night. The Ambassador had asked me to speak for at least fifteen minutes on the expedition, our preparation, and what we hoped to achieve by the end of it. With the important trade guests invited by the Embassy, all my business experience and instincts confirmed that my presentation needed to be about the New Zealand "brand". That is, the "can do", innovative Kiwi attitude that can effortlessly deliver on whatever has been promised, while being sophisticated, yet comfortable in any culture. I needed exactly the right pitch and not come across as an obvious advertisement. To sound natural and "unscripted" takes a lot of effort and preparation. The pressure weighed heavy on me.

J and N drove me into the New Zealand Embassy, which is located on Observatory Circle (shown by the red pin).

I was keyed up like an over-wound spring. My speech was prepared, but I was apprehensive about meeting up with F1 and F2 again. Things had been pretty tense on the phone earlier in the day. I had this nagging feeling that they would somehow let the expedition, or me down.

TH had already charmed them at the Embassy, despite arriving dripping wet from his walk in the heavy rain from the train station. They had given him some of the promotional clothing from the Baltimore Trade Stand to wear, so he could get out of his wet clothes. He had that slightly hangdog expression when I walked in - the one that makes people love him and want to help. Fortunately, I had brought a complete change of clothes, a towel and a comb. He was soon looking his handsome self once more.

F1 and F2 arrived at the agreed hour. Instead of wearing her promotional Land Rover green outfit, F2 was in a purple dress. She looked tidy, but that was not the point. As soon as we were alone I hissed the question at her. Her answer was that she had thought she looked more presentable like this. Not a bad answer I suppose for someone with a complete lack of business or promotional sense. But, what annoyed me even more, F1 had not thought to question her or remind her of the direct request I had made over the telephone that morning. I sighed, maybe he just hadn’t noticed. That was his usual response to most things.

The evening had to go on, of course. And, I had to concentrate on being at my best and not waste energy on angry thoughts. Guests were arriving and TH and I had a lot of talking to do. We soon lost F1 and F2 in the crowd. In her purple dress, hopefully people wouldn’t realise F2 was part of our team.

It was such a great experience meeting up with so many Kiwis and a number of American business people. They were all charming and interested in our expedition. It was a very relaxed and easy function. Speech time soon rolled around.

The Chef de Mission (deputy ambassador) was the MC. His role was to welcome everyone, invite the Ambassador to say a few words, and then to formally introduce me. I stood at the front and concentrated on looking calm and professional. Inside, the butterflies were fluttering overtime. TH stood to one side. I made a quick eye contact with him. I love that look in his warm brown eyes that is just for me and helps me believe I can do anything.

The Chef de Mission was about to speak and I turned back to face the crowd. J and N gave me positive smiles, and the room quietened to an expectant hush. He started to say that the Embassy had some special New Zealanders tonight and, as such, he wasn’t going to speak for too long. In a brief pause, while he took his next breath, F2 suddenly called out a loud response, "Thank bloody goodness."

She had completely misjudged the deceptively relaxed nature of the occasion. I think the Ambassador and the Chef de Mission were far too professional to let too much show on their faces. But, in that tiny pause, I felt the shock wave between them and a flood of amazement around the rest of the room. Then, the Chef de Mission continued with his introduction of the Ambassador. I kept my eyes on him and I didn’t dare look at anyone else, in case I totally crumpled with embarrassment.

In his speech, the Ambassador said some wonderful things about adventurous and innovative New Zealanders. He frequently looked at TH and I, but never at F1 or F2. There was something in his eyes, when he turned to me, that told me he didn’t blame me for F2’s ghastly gaffe. It boosted my confidence once more.

I gave my best during my speech and the adrenaline took over. I hardly needed to look at my notes. I kept my gaze sweeping around different people in the room to include everyone. Well, everyone but two people, who were best forgotten.
I finished with a presentation of a gold enamelled Land Rover for the Ambassador, the extra one that "wonder woman" Meg from Land Rover Knoxville had given us, expressly for this moment.
http://eventfulwoman.blogspot.com/2007_02_01_archive.html
The Ambassador and I shook hands, and posed for TH’s ready camera. The Chef de Mission invited everyone to stay on for refreshments and to talk with us.

Everyone came rushing up to TH and I. There were so many questions. It was almost overwhelming, but very exciting. Through the swirling crowd I saw F1 and F2 sitting alone. And then I saw dear, sweet N going over to talk to them, and to sit with them. He told me later that he did that to avoid further embarrassment for TH and I, rather than because he felt sorry for F1 and F2 being on their own.

The Chef de Mission approached me as the evening was coming to a close and the crowd had thinned. He asked me if I’d ever thought about making a career move into Embassy work. I knew then that the event hadn’t been stuffed up for them.

I thanked him for the offer and said that I had a job to do first – driving around the world. He said he expected me to complete my current mission, and gave me his card. He asked that, when I was getting close to arriving back home again, if I would give him a call. I promised I would. This conversation really made my night and confirmed again that the whole function had been a success.

© Eventful Woman, 2007
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The Show Must Go On

2007-10-07T17:16:00.001+13:00

Land Rover Expedition Time: Very late April 1998

We still hadn't heard from F1 and F2. Our 30th April function at Land Rover North America’s Head Office was fast approaching as was our New Zealand Embassy "do", scheduled for the day after.

A neighbour of J and N’s, keen to help the expedition, had kindly offered to host F1 and F2 in her home. She was excited to be part of it all, and to help us, and was so thrilled to be invited to the promotional BBQ at our Embassy. She had never attended any event at an embassy before and wanted to look her best. She asked if we would all be wearing evening dress. Of course, she was incredulous at my reply, even when I tried to explain that the event was to honour intrepid expeditioners. Fortunately, J and N reassured her that dressy casual would be smart enough.

The morning of the 30th slowly ticked by. We were edgily waiting by the phone for F1 and F2 to call in. It never rang. Around lunchtime we left to make our way to the Land Rover North America’s head office in Maryland.

Whether they were dead or alive, we’d look fools either way. TH and I wrestled with what we were going to say when the inevitable question would be asked on their whereabouts. Here we were, only two of the expected four guests-of-honour at a 50th Anniversary Event, representing New Zealand, and the vital Series One Land Rover was missing. I was a mixture of being totally pissed off and filled with dread that the worst had happened to them.

We arrived in good time. Nancy, our favourite PR person, was expecting us and immediately escorted us to meet the North American General Manager. While nervously waiting in his guest reception area, we overheard him discussing his outfit to his personal assistant. He sounded unhappy. Having decided that the 50th Anniversary event was to be "safari themed", with all the staff dressed accordingly, he was clearly not pleased how he looked. I think he had hoped for a fearless hunter/swashbuckling effect. I knew his instincts were correct as soon as I saw him. He looked a proper prat in his pith helmet and "bwana-in-the-jungle" outfit. It sure took some of my nerves away and it had certainly distracted him from the fact that there was supposed to be four of us, as well as a 1948 Land Rover. With a bit of luck he might not notice that our 18 years newer, Series 2A Land Rover, wasn’t even a Series One.

He shook our hands, warmly welcomed us and said it was an honour to host us. He then asked me if I could keep my speech to less than five minutes. My mouth opened and then shut. What speech? This was the first I had heard about it. I really had something to worry about now. I asked him how many people would be attending.

"Around 400."

"Gulp", I thought.

He was clearly busy and we said we’d be happy to just mingle with the guests until the official bit. I wanted to get away and write some speech notes. TH and I were asked to position our Land Rover in pride of place in the showroom. Most of the mechanics knew the difference between a Series One and Series 2A. However, they happily gathered around the engine bay with TH, while I furiously wrote my notes in an isolated corner. People started to congregate and eventually I had to put my PR hat on and mingle.

There were plenty of nibbles and drinks, plus some new Land Rovers to drool over. An added attraction was a zookeeper from Baltimore Zoo. In keeping with the safari theme, he had been asked to bring along some animals – a chinchilla for the kids and a real, live snake for us "bigger kids".

As New Zealand is one of the few countries without snakes, and all imports of snakes are forbidden including for zoos, I had never seen one up close before. The zoo keeper let me touch the snake as it slid along his arm. It had a dry skin; not warm, but not cold either. I had been expecting something cool and slimy.

Finally, it was time to begin the formal proceedings. Nancy stood by me for support on one side, with TH on the other. The General Manager talked about historic links with Land Rover, the spirit of adventure, and the Land Rover creed of "Go Anywhere, Do Anything". He then looked over at us and said our expedition personified these brand assets. That was my cue to come to the podium.

Once there, I looked around the huge crowd and tried to stop my knees from knocking. The people all looked so stern. They seemed nothing like a New Zealand audience, who usually appeared curious and interested. I was concerned they didn’t like me.

I took a deep breath and started. I began by saying that I had been apprehensive about coming to USA, the land of great motoring, in an old, slow, British copy of a Jeep. They looked more uncertain at this, perhaps worried that I may have been mistreated in some way. I then said I could NOT have been more wrong. I talked about the love affair that the American public had had with our "antique" Land Rover. I described how people had been so friendly and helpful. The audience all suddenly relaxed and smiled in a huge collective sigh of relief. I enjoyed giving the rest of my speech, touching on what I hoped were all the right marketing buttons for the sales team. I was given a rapturous applause at the end. Nancy gave me a big hug and said I was perfect.

The General Manager removed his pith helmet and looked more "statesman" like, as he continued his speech. He launched the new Mark 2 Land Rover Discovery, which spectacularly rolled down a ramp and onto the stage, after bursting through a large paper banner that had previously hidden it.

Speeches over, the crowd was free to top up their glasses and partake in the big spread of food. Everyone seemed to want to talk to TH and I and to look at our "primitive" Land Rover. I found out why the audience had initially appeared stern. Many told me that they had been surprised and taken aback that a woman was the spokesperson for the expedition and that I was also from a tiny country like New Zealand. Not just any woman either, but one so short she could barely see over the podium. So, it wasn’t dislike at all, but uncertainty. They needed to get used to the idea.

I reminded myself that, while it is common for women to take leadership positions in New Zealand, it wasn’t like this in other countries. I mentally thanked those suffragettes who gave us the vote in 1893, which meant attitudes changed quicker in New Zealand to enable women like me to have opportunities earlier, and not twenty years later when I would probably be too old to do this odyssey.

It was a very happy and worthwhile promotional event for us. Nancy was well pleased, as was the General Manager.

We returned to J and N’s on a high, although tinged with worry about F1 and F2. However, they had finally phoned in, around dinnertime. They had arrived in the area early afternoon and had booked themselves into a campsite in Maryland, about one hour’s drive out of Washington DC. Ironically, the campsite was not far from where we had been at Land Rover North America. When J asked them why they hadn’t called days earlier, or at any stage over the month we had been apart, F1 said they hadn’t thought it was necessary.

I was so furious. Their thoughtlessness had caused us a lot of worry and embarrassment. The whole shine had now gone from our evening at Land Rover. Not only that, F1 had told J that he didn’t want to bring his Land Rover into the New Zealand Embassy for a photo shoot the next day. He’d heard somewhere that it wasn’t safe to leave classic vehicles on the streets of DC. J dryly informed him about the usual security measures around any embassy, and that a photo shoot with the New Zealand Ambassador was one of the prime purposes of our visit to Washington DC.

J had asked F1 to ring back in the morning, as she knew that I’d want to talk to him. Talk to him? I wanted to throttle the living daylights out of both of them. The last few weeks on the road without them had been such a joy. Obviously, they hadn’t changed at all during our time apart and the last thing I wanted now was to get back together with them.

© Eventful Woman, 2007
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Chance Meeting - Monumental Result

2007-09-24T17:30:00.000+12:00

Land Rover Expedition Time: Late April 1998

I am not much into boats, but most girls like a sailor. So, when the New Zealand Embassy invited TH and I to a function at Baltimore Harbour, I jumped at the chance.

The Whitbread Around-the-World Yachts had arrived and, while there was no specific New Zealand entry into the race that year, New Zealand crewmen were serving on nearly every boat. The function was to welcome these New Zealanders and celebrate our nation’s "can do", prowess. J and N were also invited, as were F1 and F2. We responded with apologies for F1 and F2, saying they were due to arrive in the next few days. Well, we hoped they would be arriving. We still didn’t know where they were, or even if they were going to show up for our own function.

Our Embassy also kindly offered a place on their guest list for the PR representative from Land Rover North America. TH and I were invited to be her personal hosts for the night, which was a real privilege.

The evening opened with a powhiri (a formal Maori welcoming ceremony)
http://maaori.com/misc/powhiri.htm

TH and I accompanied our Land Rover guest (Nancy) within the group of guests/visitors to be welcomed by the New Zealand Ambassador and his staff, so I could explain the ceremony to her, as it unfolded.

Many of the Embassy staff were Maori and several were in appropriate ceremonial dress. One of these, a strapping young man of great height, performed the wero (the challenge). During the wero, which is an ancient ritual, it is customary for a strong warrior to approach the visiting party in a war-like way. This includes brandishing a weapon (such as taiaha, or spear) chanting and poking out of the tongue. This is a demonstration of strength to signal that the visitors are welcome, if they come in peace. If not, the hosts are prepared to vigorously defend themselves.

At that stage, I had not seen the powhiri performed outside of New Zealand. The effect on many of the American guests, who had never seen a powhiri ever before, was fascinating. Nancy, buoyed by her own personal guides (TH and myself) either side of her, was thrilled and appreciative. The others were all interested, as expected, but many looked quite nervous. The most terrified looking of them all was the Mayor of Baltimore, who was a huge black American.

As "chief" of the guests, he had been appointed to accept the "offering". This is a vital part of the wero, where the challenging warrior lays down an item, often a piece of fern, as an offering. If the visiting chief does not want war, he will accept this offering by picking it up.

The Mayor, despite looking like he might run any moment, was well briefed. When he crouched down to accept the offering, he never took his eyes off the warrior, which was the exact protocol. However, I could see the fern frond shaking in his hands as he stood up again.

As soon as the offering was picked up, a warming song of welcome burst out from the hosts, which we (as the guests) responded to with a song of our own. The two sides then happily intermingled, there were the usual speeches and then the food was served.

Towards the end of the evening, after Nancy had left, I met a man who was the region’s department head for the American equivalent of the Ministry of Labour. When he discovered I was a tourist, he asked me to call him Jim. Then he enquired if I had visited any of Washington DC’s monuments yet. I said that we planned to do that the next day. He asked which one I would visit first. My reply was instant – The Vietnam Veterans Memorial. There are a lot of monuments, many of great significance in Washington DC. http://www.kestan.com/travel/dc/monument/

I imagine that not many tourists would name the Vietnam Veterans Memorial as first on their list. Jim looked surprised, but pleased as well. I knew immediately that this memorial was a special place for him.
http://www.nps.gov/archive/vive/home.htm

He asked me why I wanted to visit this one. I told him about our expedition’s major sponsor, the CEO of Repco New Zealand, Bob Wyeth. Bob had told me about the Vietnam Veterans Memorial when he last visited Washington DC. He described the three key components of the memorial - the Wall of names, the Three Servicemen Statue and Flagpole, and the Vietnam Women's Memorial.

Bob described "The Wall" in great detail. It starts as a short panel with the name of the first soldier killed, builds up progressively to taller panels, which list the names of more and more dead soldiers. At full height, this wall is well above a tall man’s head, and it stretches out, like a black wedge in the land, for many long paces. Then, the panels get progressively shorter and end with one short panel again, inscribed with the name of the last soldier killed. In total, there are over 58,000 names! At the base of each panel, still grieving family and friends leave flowers, poems and gifts.
http://www.vietvet.org/thewall.htm
or
http://www.nps.gov/archive/vive/memorial/wall.htm

Back in New Zealand, big, tough Bob had tears in his eyes, when described to me something that had happened during his visit to the memorial. An elderly man had shuffled along "The Wall" and stopped just past the halfway point, where Bob was standing. He fingered a name etched on the black, marble panel. Then, the man bent down and gently placed an old-fashioned penknife, one with a bone handle, at the base of that panel.

As the man turned away he announced, to no one in particular, that he had given his son that knife for his twelfth birthday. Bob asked the old man to tell him about his son. The boy had grown to a tall 18-year old, had enlisted in the US Army and was sent to Vietnam. A short while later he was posted "missing in action". Over the years since, the old man had kept the knife to give back to him when he returned, and had never moved house, so his boy would know where to find him. But, ill health and old age had now forced him to sell or give away most of his possessions in order to move into a small room at a retirement home. The man said he’d never given up hope, until now, that some day, some how his son might return. He added sadly that, even if he did, there was no house for the boy to come home to anymore.

I had tears in my eyes, too, as I finished telling Jim this story. Jim patted me gently on the shoulder and thanked me. He then told me that he was the Chairman of the local chapter of the Vietnam Veterans. He had been a helicopter pilot. TH and I talked a while longer about the memorial with Jim. He asked a lot of questions about our expedition and said he would like to know more.

It was getting late in the evening and the Embassy bus would soon be leaving to take us back to Washington DC. I suggested that he attend our Embassy event. Unfortunately, he would be away on business. With J and N’s permission, I gave him their contact details. He was due back in town on the day we planned to hit the road again. He promised he would find a way to get in touch, shook mine and TH’s hands and left. I thought I would never see him again.

But, the day before our departure a week later, Jim telephoned. He was flying back to DC the next morning and he asked if he could visit us at J and N’s home before we left.

We agreed. His plane arrived on time and he came straight from the airport. He brought three gifts with him. He presented me with a gold Vietnam Veterans Memorial commemorative coin, in a red velvet box. From our conversation at the function in Baltimore, he knew that TH was interested in military aircraft. So, he gave TH a squadron badge from his own unit. He also gave us a small package to give to Bob Wyeth, on our return to New Zealand. He told us that it was a letter and another commemorative coin. He said that, in his letter, he thanked Bob for sponsoring us as, through us, he was able to hear Bob’s memories of his visit to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. Jim told us that he’d also written that we were worthy ambassadors for New Zealand, and our sponsors, and how proud Bob could be of having two such people representing Repco around the world.

We were quite overcome. But, it gave us a terrific boost. This was just what we needed when setting forth once more on the great adventure and after a comfortable rest stop.

© Eventful Woman, 2007
Want to keep up with Eventful Woman? She can notify you as soon as she has updated her blog. This is a FREE service. Please email her on eventfulwoman@clear.net.nz and type "update ASAP" in the subject line

Bizarre meeting with George Washington

2007-09-10T12:40:00.000+12:00

Land Rover Expedition Time: Late April 1998

We made history in historic Williamsburg, Virginia.

http://www.history.org/

A big chunk of Williamsburg has been preserved as an historic quarter and tourism is huge business here. Everything is available and for sale – tours of historic houses, lectures, historic walks, opportunities to dress up, take photos, buy old-fashioned sweets, learn hand crafts, or take a horse and buggy ride. These buggies ply their trade amid the usual traffic. They were quite probably the only road legal vehicles we were able to overtake in our entire journey through the States. We made the most of it, and overtook several. We did a "U" turn and tried it again. Oh, the excitement.

Pleasurable as all the speeding was, (for an old Land Rover), we had to move on to be in the Washington DC area for our official expedition event at the New Zealand Embassy. The trouble was we had no idea where F1 and F2 were or whether they would show up for it.

TH and I discussed whether something terrible had happened. If there had been an accident, we felt they would have been in touch. Or, if they were incapacitated, surely the USA police would have contacted their counterparts in New Zealand and a message would have been sent to my American cousin Susan. All of our friends and families had our "in case of emergency" contact points, and one of these was Susan.

We had all agreed, when the expedition team split up, that we would keep in touch by leaving regular phone messages with Susan. While we had checked-in with Susan, F1 and F2 hadn’t. Not once in the month we had been apart. Other than a vague plan to travel further south, we had no idea where they were.

I stewed on all the possibilities and came to the conclusion that there were two likely scenarios:
1. some sort of ghastly back-woods adventure gone wrong, where they had stumbled over a cliff, but their vehicle or bodies had not yet been discovered; or a sinister variant of this (a la the film "Deliverance") where they had been murdered and were now hidden in unmarked graves, deep in the forest, or maybe in a river

http://www.destgulch.com/movies/deliver/

or
2. they simply hadn’t bothered to make contact

However, they had also promised to be in Washington DC in time for our big event at the New Zealand embassy. I knew that F2 was particularly looking forward to this, so I was pretty sure she wouldn’t miss it. Even so, their lack of contact and consideration was really irritating me. We also had an invitation to attend the 50th Anniversary Land Rover commemorative event at Land Rover North America’s Head Office on 30 April. TH and I would look a bit silly without the all-important 1948 Land Rover at this event.

We were headed for Reston (Virginia), just outside of DC. We were going to stay with two New Zealand friends, J and N. I rang to confirm we would be arriving the next day. At that stage, they hadn’t heard from F1 and F2, either.

I had met J in New Zealand via my work place. She was a highly skilled, self-employed office worker, who provided her services on a temporary basis for companies with short-term staffing needs. We had got on well and had arranged to meet socially, with our husbands. Shortly after that, N scored a great career opportunity near Reston. We said our sad goodbyes, but promised to keep in touch.

And so we did, with emails every few days. J was unable to work in USA, as she didn’t have the necessary "Green Card". But, she made some good contacts via the New Zealand embassy and met up with the "at home" spouses of other immigrant workers. J was instrumental in the fact that the New Zealand Embassy was hosting a function for us.

Over a year earlier, I had emailed J about my idea for a photo opportunity with the NZ Ambassador. She gave me some excellent advice on what to say and how to say it. I was stunned and delighted to later receive a very quick reply from the Ambassador to my letter. Not only did he agree to the photo with the Land Rovers outside the NZ Embassy, but he also offered to host a promotional function for us.

On the afternoon we arrived in Reston, we had arranged to meet N in a shopping centre car park on the outskirts of town, rather than try and find our way to their place on our own. What a treat it was to see N’s beaming face as we pulled in. I gave him such a big hug. With the exception of the couple we had met at Yosemite National Park, these were the first New Zealanders we had met up with, since leaving home. N then drove on ahead in his car, so he could lead the way to his and J’s home. J and I threw our arms around each other as soon as we arrived.

We planned our next few days with care. We wanted to see the sights in Washington DC and we wanted enough time to prepare for our event at the New Zealand Embassy.

The Embassy staff advised the details as soon as I got in touch with them. They had arranged a sort of a posh BBQ as our function for the 1st May. This fitted well with the Land Rover theme and would enable us to wear our sponsors' clothing, without looking out of place. The Embassy had invited some appropriate trade contacts and a number of New Zealanders, including J and N, to help celebrate our cultural "can do" Kiwi attitude, as personified by four New Zealanders driving around the world in old Land Rovers. The head PR person from Land Rover North America would be an honoured guest. There would be formal speeches from the Ambassador and myself.

For our first social visit into Washington DC itself, we aimed straight for the Smithsonian Museum. This is actually a whole collection of museums. There were two specific things I particularly wanted to see. The Apollo 11 exhibit and the infamous statue of a bare-chested George Washington dressed up as the Greek God, Zeus.

These two goals were for two very different reasons. I was 13 years old when Neil Armstrong first walked on the moon. It was the most exciting thing that had happened in the world according to my limited view at that time. I had followed everything with great interest. I knew the names of all three astronauts and their history, as well as I knew that of The Beatles.

Everything about the astronauts was exciting. I wanted to BE them far more than I wanted to play a guitar. Most of all, I dreamed I would one day launch into space. I still do. I am determined to fly to the moon and I am convinced there will be public flights available in my lifetime. In the meantime, to be able to see the Apollo command module would be a real thrill.

I made straight for the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum first.
http://www.tourofdc.org/museums/smithsonian/NASM/

My first impression on the command module was that it was so tiny. It was hard to imagine three men living in such a small space for so long.

The module was tilted so the heat shield was clearly visible. A glass panel covered it, but it was easy to see its scarred, blackened surface, seared by its fiery re-entry into Earth’s atmosphere. I stood for a long time imagining what it would have been like. Those terrifying minutes, scorching through re-entry, must have felt like forever.

It was time to find the other "must see" (for me) - George Washington, aka Zeus. This really appealed to my quirky sense of humour. I have always loved studying human behaviour. Propaganda and politicians provide ample entertainment and sport in this area.

The statue was difficult to track down. (Remember, this was 1998, when the Internet was not as it is today). I just kept on asking and eventually found it at the National Museum of American History. It was placed in a busy, walk-through area. Even though it was huge, people just walked on by, barely noticing. It was displayed without adequate lighting and sort of tucked under a stairwell. Quite clever positioning, if you didn’t want to draw attention to something. This was probably due to the statue’s controversial history.

I guess it all must have started with noble thoughts on the origins of democracy and the senate – Greece. I could see how this would have been seen as the right association with the first-ever American president. To be fair to George Washington, he didn’t have a say in this toga party. He was long dead by the time certain bureaucratic "toadies" decided on this as an appropriate tribute. Well-intentioned men would have made speeches to seek support and funding. At the time, it all would have fitted with the Roman pillars and the classical Greek architecture elsewhere in Washington DC. Horatio Greenough was commissioned as the artist/carver and the resulting statue was proudly put on display in 1841.

But, culture doesn’t easily transplant to an entirely different country, and particularly not through time zones. Dismayed questions began to be asked. Is it right for the "father of the nation" to be semi-nude? Why, you could even see his nipples.
http://www.smithsonianlegacies.si.edu/objectdescription.cfm?ID=66

The statue got moved and was tucked into a less conspicuous place. But, of course, more questions were raised – why do we show disrespect to such an important figure in our history by hiding it away? Hah – they were damned if they did and damned if they didn’t. Eventually, the statue was placed into storage with the hope that, over time, it would be forgotten. But, he was the first President after all, and the damn thing just kept on resurfacing.

And, now here it was, in one of the Smithsonian museums, with someone all the way from New Zealand asking about it.

I admired the statue for awhile, which was impressive in white marble. But, even I had to admit, it was bizarre seeing Washington like that – a warp in time, like I had entered some sort of parallel universe. I watched the people moving past. Most never noticed him. There were so many glories in the museum that they moved quickly through this thoroughfare, in order to see the next wonderful thing.

Maybe they were keen to look at the other George Washington artefacts in the museum – a lock of his hair, his battle sword and even an egg poacher he used at Mt Vernon. They didn’t know what they were missing.

© Eventful Woman, 2007
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Revenge of the Last-borns

2007-04-06T23:09:00.000+12:00

Land Rover Expedition time: late April 1998

Earlier in the expedition we’d met the tree named after General Ulysses S Grant in Sequoia National Park. I’d even had my photo taken next to it. I’m the really small figure standing in the snow on the right, looking over my shoulder for mountain lions.

Refer to blog entry:
http://eventfulwoman.blogspot.com/2006/05/how-not-to-be-eaten-by-mountain-lion_14.html

The General’s path and ours crossed again, when we drove into Appomattox, Virginia. With a name like that we thought we’d found our way into an Asterix book. The area is famous for battles, but not Roman ones. This is where the American Civil War ended. In April 1865, 133 years earlier, the confederate Army, under Robert E Lee surrendered to the Union Commander, Ulysses S Grant at the village of Appomattox Court House.
http://www.eyewitnesstohistory.com/appomatx.htm

However, we were about to do battle of another sort – in the bizarrely named Yogi Bear Jellystone Park campsite. It was a name you’d expect to stumble across near Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming, not Virginia. The owners were in the process of changing the name to Lake Paradise Family Campground. Paradise it was not. "Lake" could describe the tenting area. It was one of the worst campsites we had seen. The ground was very wet and shaded by trees, which were still dripping from the last rain shower. Away from the trees, the ground sloped so sharply that we knew we’d be rolling into the tent wall all night. And, wherever we pitched the tent, the toilet and shower block were a good five minutes trot away.

When I am camping, the distance to the toilet has a direct correlation to the likelihood of my needing to go there in the middle of the night. I call this "the 500 metre bladder challenge". And, I could pretty well guarantee that at around 3am, and probably in the middle of a rainstorm, my bladder would start sending insistent messages to my brain.

It was going to be impossible to camp there. At this time of the year, we were often the only "primitive" campers in these so-called family sites. A few retirees would swing into the camp, in their large, luxurious RV caravans. Once set up, these RV’s would be lit up like oases of light and warmth, while TH and I shivered in our tent.

Sick of being constantly relegated to inadequate sites, we decided to set up in the RV caravan area, which was largely empty. Most of these sites were also sloping, which wasn’t a problem for the RV’s as they have levelling feet. The only site that wasn’t sloping was by the main camp road. This wasn’t good. But, at least it was close to the ablution block.

We had just finished setting up, when the manager drove past, on her way out. She immediately halted and started shouting at us. She wasn’t very pleased that we had taken a valuable RV site. We made a point a looking around the near empty campground and asked if she was expecting 200 RV’s to arrive at any moment. She said that wasn’t the point and started ranting again. Tired of being charged good money to camp in ill-suited areas, I let her really know about it. Perhaps I’d learned certain tantrum performance tricks from F2. Or, maybe some people just need to be shown some teeth, before they take you seriously. She agreed to let us stay where we were.

It was a hollow victory as, unfortunately, it was a very noisy night. What few vehicles were in the camp seemed make at least one trip out each that night and another one early in the morning. At least in the "primitive" area, no one would have come near us. There was also a railway nearby, with trains every hour, several dogs howling and even something like a chain saw at around 11 pm.

TH always has trouble with noise when he is trying to sleep. I don’t. I might wake up, but I quickly return my slumbers. But, TH can’t get back to sleep, if awoken too often. I call this the revenge of the last-borns, over the first-borns. TH is the eldest in his family and I am the youngest of five.

First-borns get more fuss and photos when they come into this world and the undivided attention of their parents and grandparents for the first year or two. However, they often suffer for the rest of their lives with broken sleep.

It all goes back to the early days in a first-born’s life. They were so cosseted that they never developed a tolerance for noise. Their over-protective parents would tip toe around as soon as the first-born was put to bed. Later in life, first-borns can almost find it impossible to sleep when there is any noise.

In contrast, by the time the last-borns arrive, nobody cares about keeping quiet, especially if there is several other children in the house. As such, last-borns in big families, like me, can always sleep in noisy situations. I have been known to drop asleep in rock concerts. And, so, last-borns (who didn’t get so much fussing when they were born) get back at first-borns. Well, that’s the theory according to Eventful Woman, anyway.

However, TH gets his own back on me. He has a bladder bred for endurance, and never has to get up in the night.

In the morning, we were well pleased to shake the dust off our sandals and leave Appomattox to its history.

© Eventful Woman, 2006
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Country Road - Take me Home

2007-03-15T16:10:00.000+13:00

The "Smokies" beckoned us back into their hazy heights. Ridge upon ridge of the Great Smoky Mountains strode into the hazy blue of the distance. Well, at least they do on a fine day! Today the rain gushed down through the trees and thumped into the ground beneath. The forest smelled so much like the bush at home – clean, fresh, wild and pure.

The Great Smoky name comes from the natural haze that often hangs over the mountains. Hydrocarbons released by trees, as well as high humidity, produce this bluish cast in the sky.

However, today’s haze was mist and cloud, rather than from trees sweating out their hydrocarbons. In quiet interludes, when the rain paused to catch its breath, the views over the mist-cloaked mountain ranges revealed a mysterious and enchanted land.
I thought of ancient maps where these sort of remote areas contained the words "Here be Dragons".

In reality, we were in the southern part of the Appalachian Mountains. We started the day in Tennessee and finished in North Carolina, as the Smoky Mountain National Park straddles the border between both states.
On the North Carolina fringes of the National Park lies the normally idyllic Maggie Valley.

The road followed a river, which was swollen almost to the point of bursting its banks. Another inch and the brown, muddy water would be pouring across the road. Large rain puddles had pooled on the non-river side of the road. We swooshed through them, the spray drumming on the underside of the Land Rover. Due to the incessant rain, we had been fighting a fogged windscreen for most of the day and, even though it was only just after 3pm, it sky was darkening. We started looking for a place to stop for the night.

Almost immediately, we spied a cosy little set of cabins for rent, which were some distance from the road and well above likely "high water". The cabins were clean, cheap and comfortable. John, the proprietor, was fascinated with everything about us - how we talked, our "antique Jeep", our expedition and, most of all, our digital camera. He invited us into his home on site for a warming bowl of chicken soup. He and TH talked technology, while I hungrily knocked back the soup. John was hoping to buy a digital camera and make a website to promote his cabins. We offered an exchange of services – TH would teach John how to use a digital camera and what to look for when buying one, if he let us use his phone lines to check our email. John readily agreed. He gave us more of his fabulous, home made chicken soup, too. It was thick, tasty and had big hunks of succulent chicken. I happily slurped it down and responded to emails, while the "boys" talked techy stuff.

Over night, the rain finally stopped. As if to show itself off in the sunshine, the Maggie Valley had donned its prettiest dress and spring bonnet.

The river had metamorphosed back into a babbling brook, happily tumbling over rocks or, in other places, slowly swirling in placid pools. Flower bulbs had pushed their stems through the rain-softened earth. The budded heads looked like folded-up sun umbrellas. Later, they unfurled into brightly coloured blooms. The fresh spring leaves on the trees gleamed lightly green.

http://www.maggievalley.org/

Fine weather was what we had been waiting for. Especially today, when we had planned to tour one of American’s favourite drives - The Blue Ridge Parkway. This scenic highway traces the ridgelines of the Southern Appalachians for a whole 500 miles, from Great Smoky Mountains National Park to Shenandoah National Park (Virginia) in the north. And, not one billboard in sight. President Franklin D Roosevelt began the route in 1935 to provide jobs following the Great Depression, and with the proviso that it be preserved expressly as a scenic route.

Commercial vehicles and trucks were forbidden on the Parkway. As our sponsors’ logos were splashed across each side of the Land Rover, we hoped this wouldn’t ban our trusty steed from the route. The Parkway had a speed limit of 45 m.p.h. That, and the lack of big trucks to snort up our tail, sounded so perfect.

The Parkway was nearly deserted and no one stopped us at any time.

With its long vistas over rolling mountain ranges, waterfalls, craggy rocks, millions of trees, great lung fulls of fresh air to breathe in and an absence of traffic, we felt like we had driven into a parallel universe.

The road was just one lane wide each side, giving the appearance of a country lane. This was Daniel Boone country or, as he described it, "A high, far-seeing place." If you can imagine tootling along a quiet rolling road, in a beautiful area with dramatic views, with no ugly bill boards, and lots of trees that block out suburbia, while framing only charming, historic buildings, then that was us on The Blue Ridge Parkway. A stairway to heaven.

http://www.blueridgeparkway.org/

We turned off on a side route to explore Mt Mitchell, the highest point in USA east of the Mississippi. Our Series 2A purred happily up to the highest parking area, and we puffed ourselves up the last mile to the summit at 6684 ft. The cold weather suddenly screamed in. Far from friendly and fluffy snowflakes, it was freezing sleet. I had never encountered sleet before. Imagine almost-frozen slushy rain drops and then imagine these cold dribbles slithering down your neck. Eeeeeek!

TH is made of sterner stuff and, while I skidded and squawked my way back to the warmth of the Land Rover, he returned in a leisurely lope. I got there first and heaved on the door handle. It was locked. More screeches from me, as I hopped impatiently from one foot to the other. TH grinned at my torment, jauntily waving the keys as he approached. To be fair to him, he did unlock my side first.

The howling wind rocked the Land Rover as we eased our way back down the windy road. Sleet had frozen on patches of it. We drove off the Blue Ridge Parkway at the appropriately named area of Blowing Rock, looking for shelter for the night. We found a very quiet motel with lovely hot showers.

The storm blew itself out overnight. The new day was fine and clear.

We returned to the Blue Ridge Parkway. We planned to lazily hum along it all day with one excursion off it. We were going to dive off at West Jefferson to find the Episcopal churches with frescoes.

These two small historic churches are just twelve miles apart. From the outside, they are unremarkable.
But, there are treats inside for art lovers - full wall frescoes by internationally known artist Ben Long.

The churches, Holy Trinity and St Mary’s, were build in the early 1900’s by the Episcopal missionaries to provide schooling and medical help for the locals. The new minister in 1972, Rev. Faulton Hodge, found dilapidated buildings and falling congregation numbers. A chance meeting with artist Ben Long, along with the Rev’s "go getting" attitude, changed everything.

Ben became an apprentice in Italy to learn the art of true fresco and became an international master of the technique. When he returned to North Carolina he was keen to bring the ancient technique to his home State. When he met Rev. Hodge at a dinner party, Ben offered to paint a fresco as a gift. The good reverend responded enthusiastically, "We’ll take it," followed by, "What is a fresco?"

The frescoes were mainly painted in the 1970’s, over a lengthy period. Ben often invited fellow artists to assist him. They were an alternative and artistic looking group. In the community, gossip and speculation abounded about the artists. A persistent rumour circulated that the fresco subjects would be painted in the nude, and that even the painters themselves would be naked. Services continued and, each Sunday, the pews were packed to over-flowing.

Of course, the fresco subjects and the painters were clothed. However, people became so interested in the frescoes that they found ways to help and become involved. They were proud of their churches and what was being achieved. Congregation members would vie with each other to provide meals for the artists, competing to serve the best meal. Rev. Hodge rebuilt his flock and found a sure way of keeping up their interest. In addition, he now had a great revenue generator. Entrance to the churches is free. However, willing donations from tourists and art admirers continue to fill the coffers, paying for on-going restoration work on the churches.

We saw the first set of these frescoes at St Mary’s. They were very different to the traditional, "group tableau" style.

They were the usual religious subjects, of course, but the ones in this church were all of individuals and in unusual poses – such as a pregnant Mary and the fresco of Jesus laughing.

I was very taken with a wee bumblebee that was pictured in one corner of the John the Baptist fresco. Apparently, the artist had been buzzed all day by such a bee, and he decided to immortalise it forever in the work.
http://www.ecva.org/exhibition/acs/commun_1.html

The church was very well organised for tourists. We were the only visitors at that point in time. However, there was a push button device that played a recording which described the works, who painted them, the technique used, and the inspiration behind them. Directions to the second church – Holy Trinity – were prominently displayed.

The frescoes at Holy Trinity were more traditional group scenes. Again there was the recorded message providing information about the paintings. This church also had a basement crypt under the church, set out like a miniature chapel. The cremation remains, known as "cremains", were stored here. I learned another new word too - this sort of room was a columbarium.

On one wall were the usual little cubbyholes for the "cremains", which had walnut exteriors and brass plaques. The other side had been developed as a sort of cave grotto, where the cremation urns stood in their own crevices.

While the columbarium wasn’t creepy or damp, it had a melancholy, abandoned feel to it. The atmosphere was heightened by the fresco of "The Departure of Christ" by Jeffrey Mims (a student of Ben Long). The fresco depicted Christ leaving home and was redolent with all the tears and feelings of people enduring a sad farewell. It had been painted as a memorial to a child who had been killed by a truck, in the nearby town.
http://www.mountaintimes.com/summer/frescoes.php3

Perhaps some found this fresco consoling and peaceful. But, for me, it reignited the painful memories of saying goodbye when we left New Zealand. Pangs of homesickness engulfed me and tears flooded my eyes. I rushed outside to the fresh air and sunshine.

The raw emotions exposed during this Land Rover expedition were frightening. I had sailed through life in the past without such personal troubles. I used to think I was wonder woman. This was supposed to be the big adventure but I felt so weak and pathetic. What was happening to me?

I pulled myself together before TH found me and we drove back onto the fabulous Blue Ridge Parkway.

The zigzag, split log fences around some of the historic buildings and farms distracted me from my anxious thoughts. While very attractive, the fences seemed like a complete waste of timber and effort.

I would have thought the farmers in by-gone days were busy enough, without making decorative fences. TH suggested they might be stronger against wind or snow. This would fit with the local wintry weather.

We had been told, when we filled up with petrol earlier that morning, that the section of the Parkway we were now driving on had been closed for a month recently, due to ice storms. Ice storms happen in cold weather, when the ground temperature is colder than the air. As rain falls, it freezes on contact with any surface it lands on. The ice builds up and becomes too heavy for the power lines, trees and any supporting structures not robust enough to withstand the weight. The recent ice storm had cut electricity for a week and had broken many trees. No wonder the historic houses and barns we had seen were built with steep, sloping roofs. I thought of the sudden storm we had been caught in, while up Mt Mitchell, and I shivered with what might have happened if we had stayed longer out in it. I gave myself a little rewarding smile at this point – there are some advantages of being a wimp and rushing in from the cold.

We stopped to photograph the historic Mabry Mill, which operated from 1910 – 1935. There were some information boards there and we found out that the early settlers built zigzag fences because they did not have access to a lot of nails, but had plenty of trees. Well, well, well – "for the want of a nail."

In the late afternoon, we sadly took our leave from the Blue Ridge Parkway. We went straight back into faster moving traffic, snorting trucks and ugly billboards. The Parkway had been a lovely idyll and so quiet. But, we had a date in Washington DC to meet.

In consolation, we sang the John Denver song to each other:
"Country Road
Take me home
To the place
I belong
West Virginia
Blue Ridge Mountains
Take me home
Country Road"

© Eventful Woman, 2006
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Eventful Woman meets Wonder Woman

2007-02-24T23:19:00.000+13:00

Land Rover Expedition Time: Late April 1998

One Eventful Woman can spot another at 100 paces. We cruised into Land Rover Knoxville, Tennessee, and found the only female Land Rover sales representative across the entire country. Meg Myers was as excited to see us, as I was to discover her.

New Zealand’s more recent colonial past and the strong role of pioneering women has provided more rights for women, and at an earlier stage in history than in other Western countries. I had been surprised at some of the differences between New Zealand and USA. One of them was on the career choices selected by women. Not that Land Rover USA had banned women as sales representatives. But, it was less common in USA for women to take on what was considered to be "male territory" in a career.

Maybe it was just a natural consequence of the 27 years difference between New Zealand granting women the right to vote (in 1893, as opposed to 1920 in USA)
http://www.nzine.co.nz/features/suffrage2.html

Meanwhile, back into the more recent 20th Century, we had more trivial things on our minds. It had taken an age to dry off the tent that morning and further rain was forecast. It looked like we’d have to pay for a motel that night. It was also late in the day and Meg was disappointed she would not have much time with us before we moved on.

We said we could possibly come back in the morning. As she was a local, we asked about nearby hostels or camping cabins. She said she could do a lot better than that. If we agreed to display our Land Rover in their dealership and be interviewed by the media, she would arrange accommodation, at Land Rover’s cost, in the hotel right across the road. We were thrilled and readily agreed.

Photo: Meg of Land Rover Knoxville in her "safari" uniform that all Land Rover sales people wore in USA

In my current luxury starved mode, The Candlewood Suites Hotel in Knoxville was a place I could be tempted to hole up in for awhile. Their marketing campaign is "One look at our spacious studio and one-bedroom suites and it’s hallelujah time. " It certainly was hallelujah for trail weary travellers like us.
http://profiles.hospitalityonline.com/201895/

The hotel was trialling a new idea for travellers in USA - hotel rooms with kitchens. Of course, New Zealand motels have had these for years, as NZ travellers often like to cook, rather than eat out every single night. In a room off the main reception area was a little shop, called The Candlewood Cupboard, which sold microwave snacks and meals at very reasonable prices. After days of campfire food, I felt like a pirate who had discovered an unexpected treasure-trove. Laden with booty I scurried back to our room. I gleefully danced into our room declaring to TH that we were rich beyond our wildest dreams. TH had more good news. While I had been rubbing my hands with delight in the Candlewood Cupboard, he had discovered more bounty in the hotel guest laundry - free washing machines and dryers.

Oh, the luxury of lolling in your own spacious room, on a real bed with real sheets, scoffing snacks and meals, watching the television, while your dirty clothes are washed and dried. I chirruped with delight when it started to rain outside, as there would not be a wet tent to dry off in the morning.

Tummies bulging, we took a rest from eating and checked out a map of the area. It didn’t take long to convince ourselves that there was so much to see and do we would have to stay another night. We enquired at the reception desk. They offered a 50% room discount on the rates for our second night. I was tempted to ask what sort of discount we would get if we stayed for the rest of the year.

However, we were due in Washington DC in a week. The New Zealand Embassy would be hosting a promotional function for us. Maybe we could just drive up there and then back to Knoxville in the next day. Ha ha.

I contacted the Embassy’s Chef de Mission in the morning to confirm arrangements. Our event was scheduled for the 1st May

By 10am we were over at the Land Rover dealer, looking spruce and professional in our freshly cleaned and pressed promotional clothes. Our Series 2A Land Rover took pride of place on their showroom floor. Unlike the two slackers lolling on their bed and scoffing food across the road in the hotel, Meg and fellow sales representative, Brent, had not been idle. They had contacted the local media and also their Land Rover Head Office in Maryland. Head Office wanted all four of our expedition team, and both Land Rovers, at their 50th Anniversary of Land Rover function on the 30th April.

The 30th April was a big date in Land Rover’s golden anniversary year. On this day in 1948, the very first Land Rover available for purchase was exhibited at a Motor Show. We knew we’d be in USA for 30th April 1998 and, in an offer made via Land Rover New Zealand, we had suggested we could display our Land Rovers in USA as part of any celebrations. We hadn’t had much response with our enquiries. I’m not sure if that’s because Land Rover New Zealand’s efforts were so feeble or whether, with the exception of Land Rover Albuquerque, Land Rover North America hadn’t responded to our earlier requests.

We had decided to call on Land Rover dealers on our way through USA, anyway. While we had been greeted with universal interest, we hadn’t yet raised excitement levels at the Head Office. Of course, that was before wonder woman Meg got onto our case. In return, I invited her and also asked her to extend the invitation to representatives from the Land Rover USA Head Office to attend our embassy function in Washington DC.

Photos and media interviews completed, we set forth to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. In spring this National Park was not as drop dead gorgeous as Yosemite, but it was very beautiful.

Smoky Mountains in Spring

Smoky Mountains in Autumn

We drove into Cades Cove, which is a looped road in a lovely valley nestled in the mountains. We managed to catch a glimpse of a red wolf in one part of the woods. Look at the nice doggy!! Yeah, right!

We were told at the Visitor Centre there should be around 1000 black bears now out of hibernation in the park.

But, we didn’t see any. They were either still in their beds or raiding honey somewhere else. I was thankful we were not camping in this National Park.

In 1971 the USA First Lady, Mrs Lyndon B Johnson, nominated Cades Cove as No.1 on a list of places every American woman and her family should see. The Visitor Centre confirmed that the place is bumper-to-bumper in summer and also during the colour change month in autumn. According to visitor numbers, Cades Cove puts Great Smoky Mountains National Park in the top ten of the 54 national parks in USA. In late Spring, during our visit, the traffic was very low and we enjoyed the peace and beauty.
http://www.nps.gov/grsm/planyourvisit/cadescove.htm

The weather broke into heavy rain as we headed back to our favourite hotel room. By the time we were snuggled in, with more microwave snacks, thunder and lightening was crashing in the heavens. Hallelujah - no wet tent to worry about.

With the heavy rain still pouring down in the morning, we were tempted to stay another day and just slouch in our room. That’s what even modest luxury does for you. Two days of it and I wanted to stay forever. As in the past, I turned over wicked ideas in my head of staying put, pretending to drive around the world and circulating digitally manipulated images of the Land Rover at various famous locations.

We said our goodbyes to Meg and Brent and the fabulous team at Land Rover Knoxville. They presented us with a toy Land Rover Discovery model and two Land Rover badges commemorating the 50th year. In addition, they gave us cans of drink and some snacks for the road. They were all so thoughtful, generous and kind.

We felt very rested and agreed that we should incorporate more two-day stops into the expedition.

On our way out of town we stopped at Kinko’s, a photocopying and design shop. There’s a whole chain of these stores right across America. They are really handy for photocopying, label making, badge making and anything needing quick and economically priced designs.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kinko

Meg had arranged with Kinko’s to produce a key part of the 50th Anniversary branding for our Land Rover, with a spare set for the Series I when we met up with F1 and F2 again.

When we met her, Meg had asked why we were only using part of the 50th anniversary branding. We had always suspected something was missing. What we had was a big number 5 – 0, in the Land Rover green and gold colours.

We had thought it was a little odd and somewhat incomplete. Before we left New Zealand, we had posed for photos with Land Rover New Zealand's General Manager. He had seemed happy with the signs. As the official 50th Anniversary branding was still under wraps when we left New Zealand, we had nothing to compare it with. But Meg had spotted the mistake as soon as she saw our Land Rover. For some inexplicable reason, Land Rover New Zealand had given us part of the sign.

A tag line that said "years of motoring, 1948 – 1998", should have been added immediately below the big 5 - 0. With that included, the whole statement made so much better sense. Again, it made me wonder about the marketing department of Land Rover New Zealand.

When we told Meg that the 5- 0 was all we had been given, she arranged the rest of the logo for us. Because of our tight deadlines, she arranged the stickers via Kinko’s, rather than request the signs through Head Office. These were ready for us, when we arrived at Kinko's that day.

Over the years, I have often wondered what happened to Meg. I hope she is in some top marketing or management job somewhere, as she truly deserves to be.

© Eventful Woman, 2006
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Smoky Mountains National Park