As promised last Sunday, here's an update on the wanderings of a shipload of ancients lodged in cruise-ship comfort as they traverse the coastline from B.C. to Mexico and back. Not that there's much to report. We had a bit of a dicey landing by tender at Cabo San Lucas, where the sea ran wild and choppy and was rough enough to send one of the tenders limping to the repair yard.
It has never been explained why we ran the transfer gauntlet on the rough sea starboard side of Holland America's MS Zaandam when we could have made the switch in the calm portside water where the full length of the liner was acting as a giant breakwater.
But, as one elderly lady said to me as we clung to whatever handhold our tender offered as it banged back and forth: "It will give us something to talk about when we get home." And it has.
The tender needing repairs delayed our departure for Puerto Vallarta by several hours, and when we did finally arrive it was in a magnificent, crashing, tropical storm with thunder and lightning accompaniment. I hadn't seen rain like it since the train I was travelling on a few years ago in Queensland, Australia, was halted en route to Brisbane. A bridge had washed out and all passengers were being transferred to buses as night fell. Street drains couldn't handle the volume. I remembered how water was lapping the bottom step of the bus as I got on - and thought how much easier it was to watch a similar downpour from the terrace of a Mexican pub while sipping an ice-cold beer, with just a touch of lime.
The next morning, a rain-washed sky and a coveted hot sun gave extra flavour to our morning coffee.
It was also a morning of family rejoicing, as the son of fellow traveller Anne Beckett met up with her son David, a permanent resident of Ottawa who with his partner, Michael Corbeil, operates a small four-apartment vacation establishment in Sayulita, about a one-hour drive north of PV.
We lunched onboard the Zaandam, amused at the thought of friends and family from Ottawa and Victoria holding a mini-reunion on board an ocean liner in small port in Mexico.
Our small world grows ever smaller.
When we finally sailed from Puerto Vallarta, we got a good news/bad news announcement. Already hours behind schedule, we would lose more time as we made a pit stop at Cabo San Lucas to retrieve the now-repaired wounded tender. As a result, time ashore in San Diego would be restricted and a day-long visit to San Francisco completely abandoned.
Capt. Andre van Schoonhoven dropped each passenger a note regretting any inconvenience the changes may cause and informing us we have all been given $50 - up to $100 per cabin - as an on-board credit.
It's a nice gesture by ship-owners Holland America because the changes are not really an inconvenience. A disappointment, certainly, especially for those anticipating a first visit to legendary San Francisco, but hardly inconvenient when all the luxuries modern cruise ships extend to guests remain conveniently available and you've just been given an extra $50 to spend.
During my two weeks on board the Zaandam, we have breakfasted lightly in our cabin, lunched leisurely in the cafeteria or dining room, dined fabulously in the main dining room and snacked casually poolside. We have dined on fish, fowl (including pheasant), pork, lamb, beef roasted or grilled and vegetables of every kind prepared to perfection. On the evening we arrived in San Diego I feasted on a small bowl of cheddar-cheese soup and two or three small, fresh-out-of-the-oven white rolls. No, I wasn't seasick. Honest, I just needed a break from the extraordinary. My cabin-mate had a small New York strip steak that she said wasn't up to Holland America's usual standards but was OK.
After that light repast, we strolled down to the movie theatre where the popcorn's on the house and movies are first-run quality. It's a tough life, but has to be faced even when the timetable gets a little scrambled.
After the movie, there's one last chore before a nightcap and bed. The United States Homeland Security and Border Protection authorities are on board and insist on a passport check before we hit the sack. Attendance is mandatory: "There will be no exceptions. All guests must attend the inspection for the ship to be cleared."
We are called for inspection by deck - starting from Deck 1. We are on Deck 7 and get the call about 9 p.m. A weary hand takes my passport, opens it, stamps it, hands it back without a word being exchanged. I go to bed wondering if having played a major role in making air travel wearisome, Homeland Security is now searching for new nightmares to create.
An unworthy thought. I hope.
