' to the southern islands. So begins my quest for a view of the constellation Southern Cross after hearing the song by Crosby, Stills and Nash.
Barely escaping a trip altering snow storm in East Lansing, our three days in San Francisco were uneventful until the day we left for LAX and our flight to Auckland to board the MS Statendam. Rain storms, high winds delayed our SFO takeoff by 4 hours so that as we were landing at LAX, our Quantas flight was heading down an opposite runway sans 30 scheduled passengers including Kathy and myself. A very unhelpful ground staff introduced us to the notion that "service is not our priority" encountered throughout the rest of the 4 week trip. However, Dutch ship service is exemplary good. After a scramble through two international airports (Los Angeles and Melbourne AU), last minute boarding from "standby" status, we made our ship's berth in Auckland NZ having to coax our cabbie to drive to the correct wharf in spite of his protests that the object I was looking at was indeed the MS Statendam and not the Hilton Hotel that somewhat resembled a boat. Cabbie did not want to enter a gated wharf area because it would cost him money to leave after dropping us off, although he was certain that we were in the wrong place and he didn't know where cruise ships landed except the harbour excursion ships that he initially drove us to and that was all he knew about. Boarding at 8:30 PM without luggage, for a gangway removal at 11:29 and undocking at 11:59PM, we made our way to our upgraded cabin (from the most forward bow cabin on deck 4, to 2/3's way aft on deck 5). Arrangements with the Purser's office had our clothes cleaned every night, a tux for me and evening attire for Kathy all free of charge. We left NZ's largest city (1 million) to see the country's remaining population of 3 million spread out over North and South Islands.
Our journey along the North Island's East coast began with calm weather through the night and into most of the next day. We saw White Island, the most active volcano in the Southern Hemisphere. As we approached the island, flying fish made long excursions on both sides of the bow. Dolphins in two pods streaked across our ship's bow moments later. The volcano cauldron spewed puffs of sulfuric acid smoke. We stopped for photo op, turned around, heading for Turanga, our first port of call. The subsequent weather came from the North East at gale force, force 10 on the Beaufort scale, 50 knot winds generating 30 foot seas. The next morning I went on deck 6 to do my walk, the waves were bashing the lifeboats stationed on deck 7 above me. At moments, deck 6 was awash. There must be a camera trained on deck 6 since immediately as I stepped onto the deck in the semi protective area of the stern, there was an announcement on the ship's public address system that no one should be on any outside deck. What was being said seemed reasonable so I wrestled the door open and scrambled back inside. The day and night were spent holding onto handrails as we lurched fore and aft, rolled starboard and port as well as braced ourselves from the heeling boat, and made our way around the ship. I saw no women in high heel shoes going to dinner, apparently finding the captain's recommendation against high heel wearing, also reasonable.
Turunga was our introduction into the Maori hunting and gathering culture that came first to the North Island of NZ 300 to 400 years ago: meeting elders in the Maori Meeting House, and dining with Maori families for lunch. We learned of their island hopping trips across oceans; sailing canoes lashed together to make the ocean journeys; hollowing out giant trees to make multi-person war canoes; hierarchical social structure and tribal elder rule making. At a Maori school, Maori culture was brought to us in song and dance; telling tales of clashes with other tribes, conquest, subjugation, and subsequent expulsion from hunting grounds. Emphasis was placed upon the rituals when tribes encounter other tribes. Warriors would confront the approaching foreigner with fierce facial expressions, tongues extended maximally, along with menacing gestures. Who would yield?and, if not, they would fight. Hunting territory was sought and defended in the same manner as the Pacific Islanders (from which the Maori and Hawaiians are descendants) acquired and defended resource islands. People's names are a reflection of where they are from: Mountain, River, Sea-canoe on which their ancestors traveled, Chief of the sea-canoe, revered ancestor, tribe, sub-tribe, and a given name, in that order. There were no "family" names per se. Tarunga was where we received our luggage.
At our next port of call we saw vineyards with wine making (Sauvignon blanc) a recent addition to NZ agriculture. The oldest vines were 20 years old. Wine making was introduced as the timber industry has matured and sheep herding/sheering/wool agribusiness has been in decline for decades.
We continued our Maori cultural experience in Wellington at the National Museum on the date a "rights" treaty was signed by Maori tribal leaders and representatives of the Crown. Artifacts of the early era, representation of sailing canoes, war canoes, meeting houses, weapons. Artifacts of the first European settlers, their books, a piano (see the movie with Jody Foster "Piano"), stories of the first women's High School.
Captain Cook explored both the North Island and South Island in 1769 and 1770 claiming them for the Crown of England. By the 1820's Scottish immigrants arrived in numbers at both islands imprinting the land and culture: mostly sheep farmers with a hard work ethic, sober, thrifty, a belief in universal education as well as a strong political belief in the separation of church and state. The Church of England nor the English Crown were well regarded by the Scottish immigrants.
From Wellington we crossed the Straits of Cook, that tempestuous channel between the North and South Islands. Down Marlborough Sound we docked at Picton for our next wine tour. Hours later, as the sun began its Western fall, we head north again to head east and then south. Along the route is Ship's Cove, site of a 4 month stay by Capt'n Cook to beach his boat and scrap its bottom, to meet with indigenous people and talk with them through his Pacific Island interpreter (who was attacked by the Maori as he was not from their tribe), and for the Naturalist aboard Endeavor, to document the flora and fauna. Fortuitously, there was documentation of such, since by the time the European settlers had arrived early in the 19th Century, 57 species of birds initially documented, some flightless and preyed upon by a large eagle, had disappeared, hunted to extinction by the indigenous Maori people. On our next port of call, Napier, our Maori guide lead us to the canyons, caves and rock outcroppings where Maori petroglyphs (rock drawings made from bird fat and charcoal drawn on broad rocks) exist along with large collections of bones of the lost birds. The Maori guide said that scientists have not been able to interpret the drawings. The drawings appear at some sites where very large birds were driven into blind forested canyons and then the trees were set ablaze. The resulting cooked meat was then eaten as suggested by bones scraped by stone tools.
The quintessential remaining late 19th century Scottish town of Dunedin on the South Island reflected an age of gold mining, importing and exporting, and the legacy schools and colleges are still in existence, drawing students from both islands.
Further South, rounding the National Park of the South Island, we headed into the Tasman Sea and the Fjords of Milford Sound. Milford Sound was the base of the whaling and sealing industry, a 19th century instance of hunting sea mammals almost to extinction. Today, Milford Sound is a series fog shrouded watery canyons, cascading waterfalls, and peaks reaching vertically for thousands of feet. Our piloted vessel toured three major Fjords before emerging back into the swells of the Tasman Sea, and soon to become the "Roaring 40's" (45 degree latitude South). We trailed the larger Celebrity cruise ship "Majestic" but soon lost her stern as she heads for Sydney and we towards Burnie in Tasmania. The fog clears with the building winds and mounting seas reaching Beaufort scale 11, 65 knot winds and 20 foot seas. For two days and nights we drive at reduced speed, pausing for several hours while the Starboard engine was taken off line and "tested". Resuming the Starboard engine was coincidental with the calming of the winds and seas such that by the 3rd day at sea and our entrance to Burnie AU, was uneventful.
At Burnie, our shore excursion guide told us this town was a good place to retire, as he must have already done. After traveling by bus the North coast of Tasmania, we headed inland for a tour of the limestone caves with their iron stained stalagmites and stalactites in pedestal, pencil, and ribbon shapes. Turning off the lights, we were treated to the "glow worms", insect larvae that fluoresce in the dark. As part of our shore experience, we visited a "wild life reserve" extemporaneously coming into existence as the sheep industry faltered and various animals, no longer able to fend for themselves in the wild, found a new home and lifestyle.
From Burnie overnight we shipped to Melbourne, Kathy and my second visit on this vacation, this second visit intentional, the first visit as a waypoint on our trip to Auckland, at the beginning of our vacation. Melbourne has its own wild life preserves as well as koala (not bear) in the wild. Picture taking took up the majority of time before reboarding and our night run to Sydney and our Leah greeting.
This last weekend is bitter-sweet. We are all together. Lunch in a courtyard restaurant, dinner overlooking Sydney Harbor, its Bridge and Opera House, an evening's entertainment at the Opera House: Shakespeare's "As You Like It"; Sunday, more dinning and talking, then onto the Cricket pitch for a 9 hour cricket match between India and Australia. 
My knees aching, I waddled down the stadium stairs, and we began our walk to find a ride home. Since the game was in doubt until the very last, a nearly full stadium emptied out altogether. Long lines awaited buses. Might there be a cab available some place? The cab lines were long and snaking into the night air. Dad charged into the street and hailed an empty cab. We pile in, the cabbie is animated and cricket involved. Andrew got out part way through our trip home. We said our goodbyes to him, as if we were going to see him in the morning, but of course we wouldn't.
