Bill's Travels

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Every one of those 225 miles is imprinted on my nether regions. When you’re driving on a paved road, even one that could do with a bit of resurfacing, you usually get bounced about forwards or backwards. On dirt roads you get potholes that throw you forward, you get deep grooves in the sand that have you bouncing from side to side and you get a every kind of combination of these that chuck you in every other direction.

Our driver stopped a couple of times for photo opportunities and once for coffee and snacks. The coffee was most welcome, and so was the chance to sit still for 15 minutes or so. We stopped for lunch in a remote café before resuming our ritual seat bouncing.

Our destination was Mokuti Lodge which is within a few minutes of Etosha National Park and we made straight for the park without checking in.

After entering the park through the quite splendid set of gates the first thing we came across was a waterhole where elephants were converging from all directions. Elephants are very social animals and different herds will intermingle in a friendly manner, while the young will splash about, squirt each other, roll in the mud at the water’s edge, press each other down into the mud by rolling on top of one another. But as soon as the herd’s matriarch moves off the rest of the herd quickly fall in behind her and the young ones rush to catch up with their mothers. Most people can sit and watch elephants interacting with each other for hours. They are highly entertaining to watch, and the viewer can spot certain characteristic behaviour patterns all over Namibia.

We also came upon zebra, various gazelles and another exquisite little dikdik, who stared at us with his curiously large, dark eyes. We saw a number of birds as well, including the Lavender Breasted Roller, a bird of a variety of brilliant colours. He was sitting in the top branches of a leafless tree, beak open and singing his heart out..

All too soon we had to return to the lodge where we checked in and freshened up in our bungalows. Our bags were delivered to us and it was a real pleasure to take a shower and put on clean underwear, socks and a shirt.

We took dinner on the terrace of the dining room. My whisky that evening seemed to be particularly good, and the buffet was of a high order. We relaxed with our companions and had a great evening listening to the different backgrounds from which we had all come.

We were feeling no pain as we wended our way back to our bungalows, past the swimming pools, and across the lawns. Jackie and I were more and more impressed with Namibia and its infrastructure for tourism.

All too soon it was 5 a.m. and we were up and showering to be ready for an early breakfast. And a very nice breakfast it was to be sure. An egg chef was ready to prepare your breakfast eggs any way you chose – fried or omelettes. I enjoy fried eggs for breakfast (and who doesn’t?) and when they are served with bacon, sausages and any number of additional dishes I feel set up for the day. And a breakfast like that is very low carb.

We departed at 7 a.m. and set out on an all-day drive along those unpaved roads and eventually arrived at Etosha Safari Lodge around 6 p.m. Oh my poor old rear end.

I’ve got to be honest here – Etosha was the least impressive of the lodges we stayed in. Its situation was excellent, being spread along the ridge with magnificent views of the plains below. However, there were no toiletries in the bathroom, no fridge, intermittent wifi and, unusually for Namibia, the service was quite offhand. When Jackie asked at reception why there were no toiletries she was told that they had them in stock but they weren’t putting them in the rooms yet. Faced with an answer like that it’s best not to ask any further questions, I’ve found.

The food at dinner could only be described as all right but was nothing special. It was a buffet but a small one and dishes that were emptied were only replaced infrequently.

There was a game drive scheduled the next morning, but the entire group cried off as we were pretty well exhausted from all the early starts and long drives. I got the impression that our tour manager was quite relieved so we all had a lie in and a late breakfast before leaving the lodge at 10 a.m. for the drive to Vingerclip Lodge in Damaraland. This time the drive was 115 miles but we did it in a shorter time, arriving at the lodge in mid-afternoon.

We passed large numbers of trees full of weaver bird nests. These are little balls of woven fibres and stalks created by the weaver birds. They are the nests that males make to lure a likely looking female to move into. Should the female move in they will then mate and hatch the subsequent eggs into young birds. Should the female turn up her nose (beak?) the male will destroy the nest and begin all over again.

There is another kind of weaver known as the sociable, or social, weaver bird. These birds build their woven nests side by side so that they are joined in a great mass. It looks as if someone has draped a large mattress over a tree.

At one point we detoured off the road to Vingerklip Lodge and came to a very large waterhole. We were all absolutely knocked out by the array of wildlife either drinking or waiting their turn or socialising with others of their kind. A warthog, his tail sticking stiffly straight up, ambled to the water’s edge for a drink. He looked around, checking for predators, then started to drink, looking up every few moments to eye any nearby animals before returning to the drinking. There was also a big male kudu with his harem in tow, then came gazelles, springbok, giraffe and several herds of elephant, socialising, drinking and rolling in the mud at the water’s edge.

After a while our driver pulled out and took a track that looped around to the far side of the waterhole so that we got a different view. On the way we had to stop as an old bull elephant crossed the road in front of us so we had to give him priority. From the other side where we now parked we were closer to the elephants so we had plenty of subjects to watch and to photograph.

Vingerklip Lodge is named after an enormous geological feature which looms over the grounds. It’s a tall finger of rock which perches on a base much narrower than the top so that it looks quite precarious, but since it’s been there since time immemorial it’s clearly not nearly as precarious as it looks. We arrived there around 4 p.m. and were able to take it easy until dinnertime.

Some of our companions took off for a walk up to the Eagle’s Nest, a nearby overlook. I say “walk”, though in truth it’s more between a climb and a scramble. Jackie and I cried off and settled for an aperitif in the bar while we watched the sun go down beyond the plains below us. The staff members were very friendly and the service was attentive, so much so that we ordered a second pair of drinks. After a while the more active members of the group came back, panting, from the climb to the Eagle’s Nest and went off for a quick shower before dinner.

Dinner was of a high order and there was a good selection of South African wines. Does life get any better than sipping a good wine as the tropical night falls over the surrounding country? If it does I want to know about it.

Out in the bush there is no mains water but wells are dug to tap into the water that lies deep underground. It’s about as pure as you can get, but icy cold. On the other hand, the water in the towns tastes strongly of chemicals so it’s best to drink bottled water.

As we returned to our bungalow we stopped to stare up at the sky. The stars blazed out of a black velvet sky leaving us awestruck. With very little light pollution and incredibly clear skies our view was the best we have ever had. I love the Southern Cross, which can only ever be seen below the Equator, but this was the clearest I had ever seen it. We lingered outside our bungalow, pointing out stars and stellar formations. It’s only comparatively recently that I’ve learnt that many of those bodies we think of as stars are, in fact, whole galaxies that are so far away that they appear as single points of light. (Thank you, Professor Brian Cox.)

The next morning I was just getting dressed when Jackie, who had wandered out onto the terrace called to me. She pointed down to a clearing about 400 yards away. “There are animals moving about down there,” she said, but with the naked eye it was impossible to see what they could be. I got my binoculars and focused them on the point she was indicating. With them it was easy to see that they were monkeys with a lot of young who were running around, chasing each other and zooming up and down the trees. They were there the next morning as well so it seems the area was part of their territory.

It was another early breakfast as we had to be ready to depart by 8 a.m. Another surprise was that the water is heated by solar panels and we learnt the drawbacks to this system. Early in the morning the water has cooled down considerably during the course of the night so taking a shower is an act of courage. I’m a coward so I elected to have my shower when we returned. The water’s had all day to warm up by then.

Our destinations today were not waterholes or game overlooks but a geological curiosity called the Organ Pipes, then on to see the rock paintings created by the native Bushmen over thousands of years. Our next destination was to be the Damaraland Living Museum which would be followed by a trip to the Petrified Forest.

The Organ Pipes are a rock formation where the stone has weathered into columns that resemble just that. We went next to the Living Museum as it was a more logical route. This, we discovered after we passed through a narrow defile through the rocks, was a village recreating the crafts and living customs of the previous tribal inhabitants. We were greeted by a group of smiling Africans who showed us how they developed herbal remedies and used them to treat health disorders, how they worked metal to craft arrowheads and spearheads, their methods of making pots and cooking utensils before finishing up with a demonstration of their dances.

The rock paintings required a considerable uphill walk to reach, but it’s an overwhelming thought that some of them were painted 2000 years ago, preserved by their situation under overhanging cliffs and the dry climate.

After this we drove down a paved road (my body was suitably grateful) until we reached a small settlement where we stopped for lunch. There wasn’t too much choice so I settled for a meat pie and uttered a small prayer to the god of diabetics that it wasn’t too high in carbs. As we sat outside in the shade, eating, a flock of tiny sparrows landed on the ground nearby, watching us closely with their little beady eyes. Any crumbs that dropped to the ground prompted a bird to come hopping rapidly up to us, grab the food and hop back to join their fellows. They were so courteous to each other that several of us left more morsels than we intended and spread them out so that as many birds as possible got something.

The petrified forest is not a forest as we think of it, but a number of tree trunks which were washed down by a river in flood around 280 million years ago. They were subsequently covered by sand and mud and the lack of exposure to air prevented them from rotting, but rather fossilised them. They lie on the ground, wood turned to stone, with the interiors picking up the most glorious colours.

Back at Vingerklip I got my shower in before anybody else did and we adjourned to the bar for our customary aperitifs before sitting down for another barbecue in the dining room, followed by another period of star gazing before we collapsed into bed.

It was an early start again – breakfast at 6.30 for an 8 a.m. departure. We faced a drive of 188miles to the town of Swakopmund on the infamous Skeleton Coast. This area got its name from the thousands of wrecked ships which litter the coast as a consequence of the customary rough seas and offshore fog.

We thumped along leaving the bush behind and crossing the Namib Desert, a panorama of virtually nothing but broken by an occasional scruffy piece of scrub. For a while even the scrub disappeared so we only had sand and the gravel bed to look at. I eventually fell asleep, only to awaken when the bus pulled over for a toilet break. You have to give the Namibian authorities credit. There we were in the middle of a seemingly endless desert and there stood a public toilet. It wasn’t a great toilet by any means, but it was a toilet. It was surrounded by a fence, had a steel pan that was set over a bloody great hole in the sand and what stopped the whole kit and caboodle collapsing and leaving behind nothing but a big depression in the sand I do not know. I was close to the door on the bus and was the first off. I made a beeline for the loo, and was outside again before any of my fellow travellers had even reached it. One of my mottos is “Never pass up the chance to use a loo – you never know when you’re going to find another one.”

Another couple of hours drive brought us to the coast, though it was difficult to see where the desert ended and the beach began. We drove southwards down the coast road, parallel to the sea, until a ship could be made out in the surf. It appeared to have run aground and been abandoned. Sea birds perched on every available perch, thousands of them. The bus pulled up and we all got out to have a look at this extraordinary sight. It was mightily impressive, but we discovered that this ship had not run aground accidentally. It had been placed there deliberately as a memorial to all the ships that had perished on this shore and to the people who had died in them.

We carried on driving down the coast for a short while until we arrived at the Cape Cross Seal Reserve, an area where these sea lions are protected and have an area to breed undisturbed. There was a lot of animals on the sand – some moving around, others just snoozing. As always when large numbers of seals congregate, the smell will knock you bandy. Why is why it’s best to keep a note of the wind direction and keep upwind of them.

A little further on we arrived in the coastal town of Swakopmund. David gave us an orientation tour of the town and I noted the Aquarium and the Namibian Museum, which were an easy walk from our hotel. Once we checked into the Hotel Zum Kaiser we were free for the rest of the afternoon. Jackie and I went for a stroll to find something light for lunch and were lucky enough to discover a small sandwich bar where we had difficulty choosing from their mouthwatering display. We bit the bullet, though, and finally each made a decision. After that we did more exploration of the town, discovering that it was a delightful small place, with a good variety of shops. Late in the afternoon we made our way back to the hotel to relax for a while before meeting up for dinner, which was planned in a restaurant down by the shore. And a pretty good meal it turned out to be.

A dolphin cruise was planned for the next day, but as Jackie and I had been on quite a few over the years, and usually take one when we’re in Monterey every year, we decided to pass this one up, have a later breakfast and visit the aquarium and the museum on our own.

We had breakfast the next morning with several of our group who had decided to forego the pleasure of a 50 mile drive to go on a cruise. We took our leave of them after breakfast and walked down to the aquarium.

This, we discovered, was devoted to the sealife found in the local waters. The entrance fee was modest (a pleasant surprise) and though the aquarium was comparatively small it was well set out and had a good variety of exhibits.

We came out a couple of hours later, well pleased with our decision to stay in Swakopmund and took an easy stroll to the main street to find somewhere for lunch. As we wandered we bumped into a lady from our group and stopped to compare notes. She said that she had found a likely looking restaurant attached to a hotel not far away, so we teamed up and made our way there. It was a good discovery on our friend’s part and we enjoyed drinks and a fresh salad.

After lunch we went our separate ways and made our way down to the seafront while our friend went off to do a bit of gift buying.

We were utterly surprised by the museum, which was not just the usual display of sometimes boring artefacts, but the tale of the history of this varied country told through its exhibits. We spent several hours in there, fascinated by the items that had played important parts in the growth and development of this wonderful country. They even had a doctor’s surgery, set up as it would have been in the early years complete with surgical instruments, as well as means of transport from wagons to railways to cars. There was an example of a chemist’s shop, set up and complete with boxes and bottles of medications from early in the last century. In another hall we came upon stuffed animals showing the variety of wildlife, geological samples showing what the metallic ores look like when dug straight out of the ground. Examples of semi-precious stones found there were also on display.

We spent far longer in there than we expected as it was so absorbing and informative that we emerged later in the afternoon than we anticipated. However, being close to the beach and lots of cafes and restaurants we had a pleasant walk around the district, stopping for a coffee at a pavement coffee shop and spending another pleasant half hour. By this time we had to return to the hotel for a shower before meeting with the rest of the group and heading out for dinner, which was to be in a different restaurant from the night before. Once again we had an excellent meal and I began to think that Namibia will soon become a force to be reckoned with in the international cuisine stakes.

An 8 o’clock departure next morning saw us heading for Sossusvlei, our last visit. Our two overnights there were because of the proximity of Sossuvlei Lodge to the incredible sand dunes for which Namibia is famous.

Once again we were crossing the Namib Desert, reputed to be the oldest desert in the world. It’s also arid and hot. We actually saw examples of the weltwitschia miribalis plant, which can live in the harsh climate of the desert for 1000 years. At one point David pulled off the road and pointed out a large sign to our left. It read, in very large letters, “Tropic of Capricorn”. We all piled out to take pictures and to boast that we had walked across the Tropic of Capricorn. Then it was back on the bus to finish our day’s drive of 225 miles.

Sossuvlei Lodge, which we reached in mid-afternoon, is a camp of very high quality. All the habitations are built of brick to a little more than knee height, then above that are canvas walls and roof. Thus we had the thrill of sleeping under canvas in an African National Park without the inconveniences. We had a walk around the Lodge grounds, noting the swimming pool and considering I might take a swim to get some exercise after spending so long sitting in a bus. But first we went back to our room and had a shower apiece, did a bit of repacking and rearranging our suitcases and generally relaxed with our Kindles until it was time for pre-dinner drinks.

As we walked down to the bar we met a member of our party coming back from the swimming pool. I asked him how it was. He wasn’t looking too happy. “Let’s just say it was a pleasure to get out,” he grimaced. It had been very, very cold. And then I recalled that there is no surface water out in the desert and all the water for the lodges is pumped up from aquifers deep underground. Not to put too fine a point on it, the water is c-c-cold. And that’s what is used to fill the pool and keep it topped up. I decided that going for a swim was one of those activities to cross off my list of things to do in the Namib Desert.

It was just beginning to get dark as we reached the bar and enjoyed our drinks as we chatted with the bar staff. We watched as members of our group made their way to the dining area, which was set up out of doors. The meal was a barbecue, and each kind of meat was cooked at a different charcoal grill. Some of it was marinated and others you could choose the type of sauce to have your meat cooked with. There was a great selection of vegetables and accompaniments and all of us made more than one return trip to the grills. The game meat was all from indigenous animals, none of which are under threat and are thus sustainable. Once again we had kudu, zebra, springbok, eland, gemsbok and impala.

At the end of the meal I just sat back and stared up at the sky as I finished my glass of wine. It was clearer here than anywhere else in Namibia as, apart from the hotel’s own illumination, there was no light pollution at all. The stars seemed so close as they glittered in their inky backdrop. I was fascinated to see the Southern Cross so clearly – it’s one of the most beautiful astrological features we can see.

It was still dark as we struggled out of bed before 5 a.m. the next morning. This rising at unimaginable hours was a necessity if we wanted to see the great sand dunes at the best time – dawn. In order to save time in the morning we had showered the previous night

We met up in the car park with the rest of our troupe and took our seats on the bus. A packed breakfast had been prepared for each of us, which saved more time. When I opened mine I was happy to see that it was low in carbs – boiled egg, ham, cheese and so on.

As we arrived at the gates of the national park the sky was just beginning to lighten, though the sun hadn’t yet appeared over the horizon. More cars arrived behind us and after a while a ranger turned up, greeted all the drivers and opened the gates.

We drove in and after a mile or so David pulled off the dirt road and onto a smaller track. On the right were some smaller sand dunes, though to say they were smaller is only a matter of degree. They were still pretty high. Behind us the sun began to peep over the horizon and illuminated the dunes in front of us with its golden light. Behind us were more and bigger dunes: from behind them rose two hot air balloons which drifted along the line of dunes. After this photo opportunity we carried on down the road stopping here and there to watch the changing light.

Further on still we came to the really big dunes: Dune 25 being the first one we came to. This is one that can be climbed and I set out with the rest of our group. Jackie doesn’t function well in hot conditions so she stayed behind in the shade of a tree. The Namibian sand dunes are claimed to be the highest in the world, and as I faced Dune 25, I could well believe it.

We walked for about 10 minutes across the desert to the base of the dune before beginning the climb. This became really hard going as the sand is loose and it was a case of 4 steps forward and 3 steps back. However, I’m a hardy soul when necessary, so I struggled on. In front of me the couple who had been on the plane in the row in front of us had halted and were gazing down the side of the dune. A beetle had climbed up the dune and stopped near the top, but his tracks in the sand were clear to see. It was a heck of a climb for a little beetle, though he wasn’t heavy enough to dislodge the sand the way I did.

I looked back and could just make out Jackie’s outline in the shade of the tree. I slogged on up the sliding sand, pausing now and then to catch my breath. About the 3rd or 4th pause the sudden thought hit me that I was insane to be doing this; when does hardiness become foolhardiness? So I turned, took a few pictures and began sliding down the sand. I got to the bottom and headed back across the desert until I reached the tree under which Jackie was taking her ease. Oh my goodness, how good the shade felt after my exertions in the full sun.

The light was still beating down on the dunes from the side and we got a full view of the phenomenon for which the dunes are famous – one side of each dune was turned to a light amber colour by the red light from the sun while the side that the sun didn’t touch was jet black. This was too good to miss to an enthusiastic photographer like myself and I snapped away, hoping to get that one shot that justified all the outlay and the effort.

When the rest of the group came straggling back we set off again for the other famous sights, Sossuvlei and Dead Vlei. I passed on the thought of a further climb and contented myself with taking photos. As we moved further into the national park we came upon a European who was driving himself and his family in a hire car. He had got it wrong and ended up with his wheels up to the axles in soft sand. All the rangers stopped their vehicles and went to help. A trapped vehicle is a serious problem and they all set to with a will to get the vehicle out. One ranger got into the driver’s seat while others helped rock the car back and forth until it got some traction. They got it out of the sand and drove it carefully onto some firmer ground. The driver was very grateful.

As we drove along the track the light was constantly changing. It’s a harsh, arid land, but it’s also incredibly beautiful.

After we left the park we drove on to Sesriem Canyon, another remarkable feature. This canyon is so deep that it usually holds water well into the dry season, so for the early Afrikaans trekkers it was a Godsend.

I stood as close to the edge as I dared, seeing as it was a bit on the crumbly side, and caught a glimpse of the river running far below. Those early trekkers were clearly a hardy and determined bunch to cross this sunblasted desert in trek wagons. My admiration for them grew immensely.

We got back to the lodge in early afternoon and settled for a rapid cleanup prior to heading for the lunch buffet, a welcome dose of fresh salads and meats. After that it was back to our semi-tent to do some packing in preparation for our departure the next morning. After we had packed what we could there was just time for a shower and a few moments flop with our Kindles and then we headed towards the bar for our pre-dinner drinks.

Dinner was a barbecue again, but the dishes were varied enough to try some new dishes, or try something that would be cooked differently.

Once again the stars twinkled brightly and as this was our last night in the desert I spent a lot of time looking up at them after dinner. Is it too much of a cliche to say that they were like polished diamonds scattered on black velvet? I went to bed with regret that night and that’s not something that happens often.

The next day’s drive was 230 miles to Windhoek so it was going to be a long and bouncy day. And so it was. However, with toilet stops and a couple more stops when anything unusual was spotted we still arrived in the outskirts of Windhoek just after 1 p.m. We stopped at a shopping mall and found a pleasant little café where we had a light lunch with our lady friend who had found our lunch restaurant in Swakopmund. We were served with the smiling friendliness that we had become accustomed to from the people of Namibia.

It was only a short drive to the Country Club where we were going to spend the night and once again have dinner in the restaurant. All in all, an enjoyable way to spend our last night.

The next morning we had the chance to sleep in as we didn’t have an early departure scheduled. I was awake early anyhow, but that’s my usual habit.

At the airport we asked the young lady who was checking us in if she could send our luggage straight through to Luxembourg. She tapped a couple of keys on the computer and shook her head. But, we assured her, it had come all the way through from Luxembourg a couple of weeks ago when we arrived. But our entreaties were in vain. She was adamant. The computer said no. I asked, mildly, why does it work in one direction but not the other. “I’m only a trainee,” she said, piteously, and at that moment her supervisor appeared. She looked at the screen. No, it’s not possible. But, I pointed out, we are going to have to wait for our luggage to come through at Heathrow, then we’re going to have to go outside and check in again. I received no answer. Clearly we were on a loser here. So we gave up and went through to the lounge.

“Once we get to Johannesburg I’m going to have a word at the help desk, I said. And that’s what I did. The helpful BA employee looked stunned when I told him the story. Of course you should be able to check your luggage straight through, he told me, the Windhoek flight was a BA affiliate. He took my luggage tags which had been stuck to the back of my passport and set to work at the computer. The result was that he changed the destination of our luggage to Luxembourg within the system. “Now I can’t guarantee that it will arrive on the same flight as you,” he said apologetically, “but if it doesn’t, go to the BA lost luggage desk and they will take care of you.” We thanked him profusely and headed for the lounge.

A couple of hours later our flight was called and we set off with our previous travelling companions for the departure gate. I was surprised to see there were two departure gates. I looked out of the side window on the jetway and discovered that our plane was an Airbus A380, the double decker giant aircraft that airlines were just getting delivered. The two jetways allowed the lower and upper decks to be boarded simultaneously.

Our seats were on the lower deck and very luxurious seats they were. They had some nice touches in the way of reading lights, TV screens and seat adjustments. I liked the extra comfort we were enjoying. Dinner was impressive: for our starter we chose quails’ eggs with asparagus and when we both ordered steak for our main course the stewardess asked how we would like it. Rare, we both said. And that was exactly what we were served – a nicely grilled rare, tender steak. The rest of the flight passed comfortably and shortly after breakfast was served we began our descent into Heathrow. Our scheduled landing time was 05h25 but we were early on arrival and we actually landed at 04h45. And thus began one of the most unusual experiences of our lives.

We were off the plane before 5 a.m. and seemed to be the only people on the flight who were heading for Terminal 2. As the rest of the passengers from our flight headed for Immigration and then Baggage Reclaim we found ourselves alone in heading for the bus to transfer us to our next terminal. Once we had left them behind we were two lonely figures in the vastness of Terminal 5. We followed the signs for the transfer bus, our footsteps echoing hollowly as we rode on escalators and moving walkways without another living soul in sight. It felt as if we were the last people in the world. The only sound was our footsteps.

We arrived at the gate where the bus would pick us up to find the bus would arrive in a couple of minutes. When it pulled up we could see the only occupant was the driver. He came over to open the doors, wished us good morning and drove us along to Terminal 2 while we enjoyed the experience of not being crushed by other passengers and their luggage.

We gave him a cheery goodbye and entered the terminal, to find exactly the same. There was nobody else to be seen, just the two of us moving through this technological landscape. We arrived at Security where a group of people stood around chatting. We wished them good morning, put our bags, coats and other paraphernalia on the belt and went through. We chatted with the security people as we were checked out and as we left them I remarked that this was the first time in my life that going through Security had been a pleasure. That raised a laugh from them, at least.

Next began the hunt for BA’s Club Lounge as we had until early afternoon before we could board our last flight. We passed through the shopping area, totally deserted and slightly eerie. This terminal was to close for renovations shortly afterwards and we could see where preparatory work had been carried out, with panels missing here and there or cables hanging out of the walls.

When we got to the lounge at around 5.40 we found that it didn’t open until 6. However, the gentleman in charge said that if we wouldn’t mind waiting for a couple of minutes he would set things up. And he did – most obligingly. He then ushered us in and carried on setting up breakfast to which we helped ourselves when he was finished. We settled ourselves into a window seat and watched as the airport came alive. It was a good while before anybody else entered the lounge and disturbed our peace and quiet.

When we arrived in Luxembourg in late afternoon we waited at the carousel to see if our luggage had made it with us but alas not. We made our way to the BA desk, explained our situation and were assured that it would be taken care of and we would be reunited with our luggage the next day at the latest. And true to their word we received a phone call the next morning telling us that our cases were at the airport. As we planned to pass close by on the way to the supermarket we said we’d call in and pick them up. Job done.

As for our trip, if anyone is thinking of a game watching trip to Africa I would recommend Namibia first. It is just the way it must have been back at the beginning of the 20th century with the exception that the game lodges are comfortable, clean and well equipped and the wildlife is abundant. Anywhere you travel you will see more game than any other African country we’ve visited. Well worth a visit.

Just a few weeks after we returned from Namibia, our Californian friends Claire and Terry came to Europe on a trip during which they would celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary. Aside from meeting up with their two sons and their families they had rented the house in Villiers-sur-Yonne in Burgundy, which they had taken some years back when Terry’s father Bob was still alive. We had driven down there to spend a week in their company and we’d had a wonderful week.

This time they had only taken the house for a week, so we went down to spend 3 nights with them.

We set off from Luxembourg on a Tuesday morning with the prospect of driving for just over 5 hours. The weather was good and we were trundling happily along the stretch where the speed limit is mostly 110kph as opposed to the normal limit on French motorways is 130kph. After we had gone 44 kms I saw brake lights up ahead in all three lanes and we all ground to a halt. We just assumed it was an accident, but the traffic pattern was different – we would all sit immobile for about 10 minutes then we’d start moving, getting up to about 60kph before coming to another halt. This carried on for about 50 minutes until we came to a halt again and saw what the holdup was. Protesting French farmers had taken over the motorway and were dawdling along in their dozens in their tractors. There were tractors in each lane, moving at about 20 kph, and when the traffic caught up with them the police would stop everyone until the tractors had moved on and then would lead us onward until we caught up with them again. From time to time smoke on the horizon told us where the more violently minded had set fire to tyres on the hard shoulder.

As the leaders in the held up traffic reached an exit they would do the smart thing and peel off, which is exactly what we did when we came to the next off ramp. We found ourselves on a road that ran parallel to the motorway so we stayed on that for about 30 minutes until I estimated we should be past the protestors. The GPS map showed that a road turning off to the left passed over the motorway and also had motorway slip roads, so I thought I’d drive over the motorway to see if we had left the farmers behind. And the view we had of the motorway was beautiful: it was absolutely clear, not a vehicle to be seen in either direction. I did a quick turnaround and took the southbound road and made off at a rate of knots. We were the only vehicle in sight for a good few miles.

Of course it didn’t last, but we had a good run nonetheless and didn’t even stop for a coffee. We stopped for lunch in a small town when there was no chance of the farmers catching up with us and fell into our first bit of good luck that morning. We saw a little restaurant at the side of a square off the main street which looked interesting – there were plenty of people sitting outside eating so we parked the car and had a look at the menu. That looked inviting so we managed to be assigned one of the last unoccupied tables. The dish of the day was fried grouper, one of my favourite fish, so we ordered that. As we still had a considerable drive ahead of us we decided not take wine but settled for mineral water. Our waitress was friendly and good humoured, the meal was excellent and the coffee I ordered after we had eaten was just right: not too bitter, not too sweet. When the bill came I was astonished. It was 17 euros for everything. I paid up, left the waitress a good tip and we were soon back on the motorway.

We arrived at Villiers-sur-Yonne later than anticipated but not as late I feared while stuck behind the farmers (I hope all of their parents get married soon). Claire was out on an expedition with her Australian daughter-in-law, Sally, but Terry was sitting outside the house beside the canal, overseeing his two granddaughters.

When Claire returned with Sally we had another reunion and then dinner was prepared. The evening was spent just loafing around.

Claire suggested a visit to a nearby chateau, the Chateau de Bazoches, which was the ancestral home of one of the world’s greatest military architects, Marshal Vauban. He was responsible for building fortifications all over Europe, and perfect examples of his work can be found. Luxembourg, whose fortifications earned it the nickname of the Gibraltar of the North, has some striking examples of Vauban’s work. He also devised the “hedgehog system” of building his fortresses with triangular “spikes” growing outwards from the walls, thus ensuring that any attackers were enfiladed by the defenders if they approached the walls.

The chateau has been lovingly maintained, including its original furnishings, so a visit through the rooms and studies is a delight. We all enjoyed the time we spent there and ended up much more knowledgeable about Vauban and his life than we were before we entered.

That evening Claire, Terry, Jackie and I went for a walk over the Nivernais Canal to the River Yonne, which runs parallel a few hundred metres further on. As we walked along the river bank we came upon two white horses on the far bank grazing in a meadow. When they saw us (and we were snapping away happily) they came ambling down to the river, stared at us a few moments and then began drinking from the flowing water. With the light just turning to gold from the imminent sunset we got some great bucolic pictures.

The next day Sally and her daughters departed for Switzerland to rejoin Claire and Terry’s son who has been seconded from Sidney by his company.

After they left I suggested an outing that would be interesting. I had recently read the autobiography of dancer and actress Leslie Caron. In it she recounts how she bought a derelict building in Villeneuve-sur-Yonne and restored it to create an auberge and restaurant called La Locarne aux Chouettes (The Owls’ Nest). I looked up the town on Google Earth and it looked worth a visit. It was just over an hour’s drive from Villiers which took us through some lovely French vineyards.

We took a little drive around the town, then parked beside the river and walked in the full sunshine towards the bridge , close to which the restaurant is to be found. They had a table for four and we had a wonderful lunch at a surprisingly reasonable price, with wine and aperitifs. Disappointingly, Miss Caron no longer owns the restaurant as she sold it some 6 years ago, but nevertheless her work and her artistic talent are still on show in the very elegant renovation.

We were due to leave the next day but had decided to drive down to Millau and spend a couple of days there. Once again Google Earth came to the rescue and showed us some spectacular scenery close by. On top of that is the spectacular bridge, the Viaduc de Millau which has to be one of the most beautiful pieces of modern architecture in existence. We had booked into a Mercure hotel and ordered a room with a view of the bridge. And the view from our balcony was indeed amazing, giving us clear sight of the structure at all times of day, from sunrise to sunset.

We went off to explore the town after checking in, principally to look for a restaurant where we could have dinner that evening; which turned out to be a disappointment as all the restaurants seemed to be of the same type and all had very similar menus.

Back at the hotel we had a look at the menu for their restaurant and decided that it seemed to be the best of those we had seen. Which turned out to be an accurate assessment., and after a good meal went out to explore a little more.

Our plan the following morning was to go out and drop in on the bridge’s visitor centre, which is situated directly under the bridge itself. Here they tell the story of the bridge’s design and construction through photos, plans, diagrams and videos. The architect who designed it was Briton Norman Foster and French structural engineer Michel Virgoleux. Standing underneath it makes you feel like a Lilliputian. Those supporting columns which look so slender and elegant from a distance are gigantic when seen close up. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, considering how much weight they are supporting, but it does.

Once we had our fill of bridge sightseeing we drove south, turned onto the slip road and drove along the motorway until we reached the bridge and then drove over it. On the far side there is a large pull in where travellers can find drinks and snacks on sale, and plenty of space to take pictures of the bridge from different angles.

After that I suggested we turn east and drive along the Tarn Gorges. The Tarn is a river which has carved its channel into a series of gorges as it cuts its way through the hills. Driving along the gorges is a remarkable experience – every now and again you come to a small village which usually comprises a couple of restaurants and a scattering of houses scattered among the rocks that line the base of the gorge.

We were lucky to stumble over a fine restaurant situated in a renovated chateau, the Chateau de la Malene. Once again we were more than happy with the meal and the service. There weren’t too many customers but it was early in the season so I hope that they have a busy holiday period and a successful business.

I got out the map when we were back in the car to study any way back to Millau that looked interesting. We followed a road that took us almost vertically over the southern side of the gorge, somewhat hair raising I must admit, to bring us across the plateau and then down towards Millau.

Back at the hotel we got chatting to an English couple who told us about a small square situated not far away which was lined cheek by jowl with restaurants. That evening we set out to find it and luckily the friendly couple had given us accurate directions and we came across it without too much difficulty. We sat outside and enjoyed the French way of passing an evening in the most civilised way imaginable.

The next morning we were due to head back to Luxembourg but we took one look at what our GPS was telling us the driving time would be and decided to break the journey at Beaune. The receptionist at the Mercure hotel booked us a room at the Mercure at Beaune and we set off with not a farmer or a tractor in sight.

The hotel at Beaune was modern and comfortable and we ate there that evening. After dinner we took the advice of the receptionist and went for a stroll to the historic part of town. Beaune has quite a history and many of its historic buildings have been lovingly and carefully restored. They are interspersed with old houses and shops where restaurants spread their tables across the pavements.

We are going to have to come back to Beaune, we agreed as we made our way back to the hotel.
And now there will be a short break as we are off to California in a couple of hours to visit our son's new home in Palm Springs. And right now it's absolutely chucking it down in Luxembourg.

No, Blondie, haven't been stationary at all. Jackie and I celebrated our 54th wedding anniversary on 11 November at our favourite hotel in Wimereux. On the way back we stopped off in Ypres as we felt it was about time we did something definite after saying that we must visit Ypres every time we passed the exit on the Dunkirk to Lille motorway. Then we've had a couple of medical appointments and I had to have a small laser operation to take care of my secondary cataract that had developed in my right eye. I have also treated myself to a new computer, an Apple 27 inch so that I can work on my photos on the beautiful screen this computer has. I've been finding my way around this new machine. So far I have downloaded Google Earth three times but I can't find out where it's been installed. I guess I'll have to wait for my son to get back from England tomorrow so I can pick his brains. I have started the journal on the California and Palm Springs trip which I should be posting fairly soon.
And thank you for your compliment, you're very kind.

Yippee ki yae! I've just discovered the Google Earth icon when I clicked on the Launchpad icon. I tried it and I had a lovely view of London. It's not an easy life when you're a thicko around a computer. Sigh.

I won’t bore you with all the details of our trip to California this year as it was mostly a time of revisiting our favourite haunts taking in, among others, San Juan Bautista, Monterey and its aquarium which had a special exhibit on octopus, squid and nautilus, Pacific Grove, Carmel by the Sea, Capitola, Santa Cruz, Natural Bridges State Park and a few other places.

The biggest variation from our usual routine was when we hired a car and drove down to Cathedral City, adjacent to Palm Springs, where our youngest son and daughter in law have just bought a house. Our eldest son had flown out five days before we departed and stopped off to visit with our friends Claire and Terry before continuing on to Cathedral City.

We chose to rent the car from Enterprise, a company we had used before in Florida and found to be excellent and without any of those hidden charges that come back to haunt you when you get your next credit card statement. Our experience this time was just as before, so we were happy bunnies.

We picked up the car and headed off towards Southern California a couple of weeks after arriving. We decided to take the slightly longer route driving down Highway 1 as it takes in Big Sur, one of the world’s most breathtaking coastlines and is a far more interesting drive than the monotonous Highway 17 which is further inland.

The drive was comfortable enough without much heavy traffic as it was a Sunday, though there was a considerable number of private cars with people taking advantage of the beautiful Fall weather. We stopped off at Cambria, a pretty little coastal town where we had stayed before. We had lunch in the Moonstone Grill and decided that we could spend the night here and finish the journey the following day. The first call we made was to our favourite hotel , the Whitewater Inn where we had stayed before, but it was full. However, a very friendly receptionist went online and discovered that the Blue Dolphin had a couple of rooms free and she was kind enough to call through and reserve one of them for us. The Blue Dolphin had all the paperwork ready and we were soon checked in and relaxing for a half hour or so.

A walk along the beach was our next task which we very much enjoyed, then it was back to the hotel for a shower and a period spent horizontally with our Kindles. Then it was back to the Moonstone Grill as the other nearby restaurant had a longish waiting period and the diners already there seemed more intent on drinking beer, talking loudly and laughing even more loudly.

The Moonstone had a lot of seafood on the menu and Jackie and I both settled for shrimps with button mushrooms which were really, really good. I enjoyed a Jack Daniel’s while waiting for our meal and Jackie had her traditional gin and tonic which barmen in California prepare superbly.

Next morning we took a light breakfast, paid our bill and were soon underway. The GPS took us out towards Paso Robles and then down some back roads. Along this stretch after Paso Robles we saw a sign that said “James Dean Memorial Highway”, followed shortly afterwards by another sign that said, “James Dean Memorial Junction”. I was somewhat taken aback as I knew James Dean died in a traffic accident at the town of Cholame which by my reckoning was to the northeast of Cambria. It turned out that my geography was faulty and we had just passed the spot where the actor’s Porsche crashed into a car that was turning across his lane and he died shortly afterwards.

We plugged on and started passing great plantations of trees that had been laid out in rectangles or squares, thousands of yards long. Jackie and I tried to decide what kind of trees these were as we drove past great numbers of them. We caught a glimpse of a sign announcing the name of a company that produced dried fruit and nuts so we were none the wiser and continued on for another 45 minutes or so until we passed another sign announcing a firm that produced almonds. Bingo! I didn’t realise that California produced so many almonds but we had been passing hundreds of thousands of trees, so it’s plain that almonds generate a great deal of money for the state.

The road turned south(ish) and we found ourselves bypassing Los Angeles. Even as far away from the city as we were, there was an enormous amount of traffic but as we were on a 5-lane highway it wasn’t too stressful. In fact I really appreciated the American custom of staying in your lane to pass any vehicles on your left without changing lanes – in effect, undertaking. I thought of the chaos the European system of pulling out to overtake and then moving back to the right would create here and I had to admit that driving on this crowded road was so much less stressful.

The road began to climb and the slower vehicles began to drop back. We climbed up through a pass in the hills, though they looked big enough to be mountains to me. We began to feel hungry and kept an eye out for somewhere to have lunch, but most of the places we saw were fast food outlets – McDonald’s, Burger King, Wendy’s, etc. – and finally succumbed to hunger and pulled into a McDonalds where you can, at least, get a salad.

Feeling refreshed we resumed our journey, leaving LA behind us. Our car was proving to be very abstemious when it came to petrol consumption and we didn’t need to stop to tank up. Around early afternoon we began to approach Palm Springs. We were in the desert and we could see great forests of wind turbines, only half of which were turning. We entered the Palm Springs city limits and continued on. Our son and daughter in law had bought a house in Cathedral City, close to Palm Springs. So close, in fact, that they are contiguous and you have to watch for the signs that tell you when you leave Palm Springs and enter Cathedral City.

The GPS was essential here as I had seen their house on Google Earth, but had no idea how to get there. But get there we did, passing street signs indicating Gene Autry Trail, Dinah Shore Drive and Frank Sinatra Road. Soon enough we pitched up outside our son’s house and pulled in next to our older son’s car. They all came rushing out to greet us, dogs to the fore, and we had an emotional reunion. We went inside where our son broke out the whisky and the gin and we relaxed while we filled them in on the journey.

Thank you Blondie, I'll try my hardest not to disappoint.
Later on we sat down to dinner of bangers and mash (they had found real British bangers nearby) and after coffee our sons went for a dip in the pool. The three dogs, not to be left out, promptly joined them in the water. Being set in the desert the daytime temperatures are pretty high (108 F or 42 C) so the pool, I was assured by Elder Son, was like a warm bath. Feeling delightfully relaxed and mellow from good food and wine, I sat and watched, just taking it easy after the long drive.

The next day Elder Son drove us to a nearby Mall where Jackie and I bought new sunglasses as the ones we had been using had proved to be as much use as chocolate fireguards. After some shopping by our son we stopped off for lunch at a Mexican restaurant where the tacos were superb.

We took a sightseeing drive around the area to get ourselves oriented and then returned home in mid-afternoon where we spent time catching up on emails and just lazing around. Dinner that evening was chili con carne prepared by Younger Son. As I make a pretty mean chili myself I know a good one when I eat one, and I had to admit that his efforts were well worth it. It had been a Mexican-flavoured day

The following morning Younger Son was going to drive us to Joshua Tree National Park where we would spend the day exploring. I had no idea what a Joshua Tree looked like, but our son told us that they only grow in this region, so they’re not exactly thick on the ground in Europe.

We drove from Cathedral City towards the mountains north of their house. We stopped off at a mall to buy sandwiches, wraps and water for lunch as the park we were making for did not have diners or restaurants. We drove for longer than expected as the mountains look closer than they are in reality. Just one of those optical illusions that occur in the high desert. However, we arrived at the entrance to the National Park, bought our tickets and chatted to the rangers manning the office and store.

We took a walk around the ticket office to see some of the desert plants which were growing in the sand. Some were quite remarkable, both in colour and in form. We took some pictures of the more unusual ones before we headed deeper into the park.

Joshua trees are not trees in the sense that we know them but belong to the genus Yucca. They have longish stems, up to about 10 feet and are topped by the bayonet-like spikes usually associated with yucca plants.

As we moved deeper into the desert I was amazed by the variety of plant life, mostly cactus and succulents. We went off road a couple of times, driving across the sandy flats. We only did it because our son’s vehicle is a Subaru 4-wheel drive and can go where a normal rear wheel driven car would have problems.

We loved seeing the strangely shaped rock outcroppings, wandering through them and climbing up to catch a view of the surroundings, stretching for miles. We came to a Joshua tree forest where we parked the car and wandered among these strange-looking plants. At one point we discovered an area where tiny little furballs were spread around underneath the Joshua trees. I learned that these form on the bigger plants then drop off as they develop. The wind blows them around until they are caught in the soil where, after a period of germination, they start putting down roots and eventually grow into the full sized trees we could see around us.

Around midday we arrived at a parking area where the land rose up to one side. A path looped upwards to an area where a couple of seats were situated. We ate our lunch, put the remnants into the bins provided and hiked up towards the high point that we could see. Breasting the rise we were astonished at the sight that greeted us. The mountainside fell away below our feet; we could see the desert stretching away and then, unbelievably to my eyes, there was Palm Springs and Cathedral City laid out miles away, but plain to see in the crystal clear air.

We took in the view, almost unable to believe our eyes. There was the harshness of the desert and the arid lands. Then we could see a road that cut across the scene in a dead straight line towards the cities. This was nature at its most raw, while Palm Springs was a symbol of how mankind was able to tame his environment and create a habitable oasis in the midst of one of the harshest landscapes on the planet.

We carried on around the park, viewing the extraordinary plant life that is able to live and generate in this climate. The range of vegetation was incredibly diverse proving, if proof were needed, that life always finds a way.

Dinner that evening was barbecued spare ribs and once again I wondered how America produced such large, meaty ribs while on our side of the Atlantic they are half the size.

Our son and daughter in law’s plans for the next day took us to Idyllwild, a village in the mountains south of Cathedral City. We left in mid-morning, and we thoroughly enjoyed the climb up the mountains (in their car, I hasten to add). There were plenty of turnouts where cars could pull over to take in the view of the cities, the desert and the mountains where we had stood and looked in the opposite direction the previous day. We didn’t stop on the way up as our son said that the light would be better for landscape pictures on the way down.

Idyllwild, it turned out, was a small town, or a large village if you prefer, surrounded by pine trees and, further away, craggy mountain peaks . You could have put it down in the Alps or in the Vermont mountains and it would look totally at home. In the winter months its main business is skiing and visitors come from miles around to spend a day or a week on the pistes.

We parked the car and went on for some exploration. We had a browse through many of the shops, many of whom had a variety of semiprecious stones and fossils on sale. Our eldest son has been collecting fossils for some time now and he treated himself to an interesting specimen whose name now escapes me. Our daughter in law designs and makes jewellery which they used to sell in a shop in their previous town of Boulder Creek. Now they no longer have the shop so they are setting up an online outlet. D-i-l examined the stones on display with a professional eye, ending up buying some which she felt she could do something with.

We stopped off in several more little stores before we hit on a place for lunch which turned out to be a very pleasant interlude as not only was the staff friendly but the restaurant had a model railway running around the walls almost at ceiling height. It was based on the old Canadian Pacific locos and kept us entertained for quite a while. Lunch was pretty good too, and so was the Californian wine Jackie and I ordered to accompany it.

After lunch we hit some more of the small stores, bought a couple of items that would serve as gifts at Christmas and thoroughly enjoyed the time spent browsing as some of the outlets were distinctly eccentric.

Later in the afternoon we stopped for a coffee and sat around chatting outside a little café. Then we made our way back to the car and began the downhill slope towards home, stopping off at a couple of points to take some photos. Our son had been right, with the sun lower in the sky the shadows were beginning to lengthen across the desert below us and the landscape was being bathed in a golden light that looked beautiful through a camera’s lens.

We had been planning that evening to go out to a restaurant that our son recommended but when we got home their biggest dog seemed to be poorly. He had jumped into the pool the previous day and seemed to have misjudged his leap as he banged into the wall of the Jacuzzi that is built into the side of the pool. He had seemed to be okay then, but he was quite listless when we arrived home, not even rising to greet us as he usually did, although the other two smaller dogs were as mad as ever.

By the time the dinner bell was sounding in our stomachs our son and d-i-l had decided that they would stay at home that evening to keep an eye on the dog. So just Jackie, myself and Older Son went out to the place they had recommended, Bontas, which was run by an Argentinian and his Austrian wife (or it might have been an Austrian with his Argentinian wife, I forget which). Wienerschnitzel was the choice for each of us, and extremely good they were. Accompanied by a bottle of Californian wine and followed by coffee the meal was very, very satisfying. When it came time to pay I got out my credit card but our son put cash down on the bill. I looked at him and he smilingly told us that Younger Son had given him the money to pay the bill. He said that although they wouldn’t be with us that evening they had intended to treat us to dinner before the dog damaged himself so they were going to pay, even if they couldn’t be with us in person. A kind and generous gesture, I thought.

When we got home later in the evening we found the dog to be a little subdued, but appeared to be improving. Next morning he was well on his way back to being his normal bouncy self.

The next day would be our last in Cathedral City so Younger Son proposed riding the impressively named Palm Springs Aerial Tramway, which is American for a cable car. We had an early lunch before we left and arrived at the departure station for the cable car before 2 p.m.

There weren’t too many people waiting so we stood in line with a good expectation of getting aboard the next car to depart, which turned out to be an accurate assessment. I’m invariably impressed with American methods of crowd control at their most popular attractions and this was no exception. The first comers were the first to board and there was no chance for anybody to push in or jump the queue.

When the car departed with us on board I was pleasantly surprised to see that the floor revolved inside the car so that every passenger got a full 360 degree view as we moved upward. And the view was definitely spectacular, taking in the adjacent mountains as well as Palm Springs, the desert beyond and the mountains beyond that.

We disembarked at the top station and set off for the peak, which fortunately was only a couple of hundred feet above us. From up there we could see the valley that lay to the south of the mountain we were standing on. Once more desert and scrubland stretched away before us and we were all trying to get that one magic picture that escapes everyone else. Mostly in vain on my part, I reluctantly concede.

Once again at height I began to feel somewhat odd, a sign that the dreaded altitude sickness had struck. I bore with it as I knew I wouldn’t be up there more than another hour or so.

We explored the summit as far as we safely could then went back to the station to have a coffee in the cafeteria. After that we browsed the gift shop and had a look at a small exhibit of mountain photography before boarding the car for the descent. My altitude sickness vanished rapidly as we went down, as it usually does.

I was treating the whole family that evening to dinner at a restaurant called the Chop House in Palm Springs. Our eldest had posted a picture on Facebook a week before we got there of a steak he had been served there. To say it was enormous is understating the case so I was looking forward to a good meal.

And it turned out to be a very good meal. The steaks were tender and full of flavour and even I, a dedicated carnivore, was pushing it towards the end of the meal.

Jackie and I had done most of our packing between our return from the aerial tramway and leaving for the restaurant so back home after dinner we were poring over a road map as we planned a detour to Death Valley on our way back to Aptos. We had reserved a room at the Furnace Creek Lodge for a few nights so that we could tour the whole area – after all, who knows if we’ll ever get back there again.

So it was that the next morning we bade farewell to our boys and daughter in law, and headed off in the direction of Death Valley.

Driving from Palm Springs to Death Valley was not the most inspiring of expeditions as the route was devoid of anything of interest. We passed huge numbers of wind turbines and once again only about half of them were turning. There wasn’t much wind so if the locals were relying on them for power they were in for some cuts - echoes of Britain in the ‘70s.

We took it easy, stopping for coffee and then for lunch, arriving at the entrance to Death Valley National Park in mid afternoon. We got stopped when we were a few miles from the gates as they were doing some resurfacing of the roads. We were second in the line, luckily, as we could see clearly what was going on. Not a lot at first as we waited and we waited until finally a convoy of vehicles came in sight, following a 4-wheel-drive vehicle with a large sign that said “FOLLOW ME”. When the lead driver came abreast of the lights in front of us he pulled off the road and the other vehicles all carried on. When they had all passed the lead vehicle turned around then pulled in front of us and started forward with a line of us in tow. After all, who could defy that big sign on the back?

We found ourselves driving on the left-hand side of the road on the old road surface while the right-hand side was being resurfaced. We drove like this for several miles until finally we came to another set of traffic lights where, once we passed them, the 4-wheel-drive pulled over, waved us onwards and prepared to lead the line of cars that were waiting back the way we had just travelled. We carried on and our little convoy spread out.

Not long after we were set free we came to the little hut where travellers paid for their entrance to the park. We pulled over to find several people, obviously taking a break from the drive, just hanging around. The ticket seller’s hut was closed and unattended but there was a machine that dispensed tickets once you poked your credit card into a slot.

This I did, only to find that the machine refused to accept it and spat it back out. I tried again. Same result. I tried another card. Rejected. At this point an elderly couple - older than me, at least - explained that they had a gift card and asked how they could apply it to pay for their entrance. I looked at their gift card but I couldn’t see how it could be used so apologised for not being able to help them. How could I? I couldn’t even help myself.

Just as I was about to walk away I noticed a printed ticket in the slot where the machine spits them out. I took it out and looked at it to find that it was valid from that day and was usable for six days. It looked to me as if one of the previous users had forgotten to take his ticket. I looked around helplessly, wondering who it belonged to. “Keep it,” said one of the onlookers and the others agreed. “It doesn’t belong to anybody here?” I asked. Everybody shrugged or shook their heads. “Keep it,” one of them said again, so I slipped it into my shirt pocket. Had I just committed grand larceny, I wondered as I climbed back into our car where Jackie sat enjoying the air conditioning. The outside temp was 104°F, somewhat cooler than the 108 in Palm Springs, but not enough that you’d notice.

“If the police stop us,” I said to Jackie, “don’t panic, I can explain everything.” She sat up, looking startled. I told her what had happened. As a very honest person she worried that I would end up in Alcatraz. I pointed out that Alcatraz had been closed in the 60s and that we had actually toured it some years ago. Anyway, to cut it short, we were never asked to produce the admittance ticket and whoever had failed to remove it from the machine did not come after me for it. Thus I showed a small profit for the day.

We arrived at Furnace Creek Lodge but it was closed for renovation and was due to reopen about 4 days after we were due to leave so we had booked ourselves into the Furnace Creek Ranch, about a quarter of a mile further on. Fortunately, it was easy enough to find and we were checked in quickly and were soon ensconced in our room, which had a very comfortable bed and a view of the pool.

We unpacked, freshened up and then went out for a walk around the ranch, discovered where the restaurant was to be found, then came upon the shop where we stocked up on bottled water. The bar was next to the shop but it was already pretty crowded and sounded raucously loud. We followed that by returning to the car and going out for a drive around the vicinity where we stumbled upon a visitor centre which was fairly close to the ranch. We marked it out as a place worth a visit and carried on exploring.

On our return to the ranch we decided that the visitor centre might have information on places to visit so we went in and discovered that it was not only a source of maps and informational leaflets but housed a display covering the geological makeup of the area and its flora and fauna. We found this to be so fascinating that we spent longer there than we planned, but since we weren’t going anywhere special except back to the ranch for dinner it didn’t matter. So after a very enjoyable visit we gathered up our bundle of maps and pamphlets and returned to the ranch.

Dinner that evening was a surprise as we had an excellent meal, a glass of good wine and here we were in the centre of one of the harshest environments on earth.

And now I’m going to stand up and take a bow. This is the first entry I have made typed on my new Apple computer, so I’m feeling my way along as I type. I’m hoping future segments will appear faster as I grow more familiar with the Pages programme.

Why, thank you Kat, that’s one of the nicest compliments I’ve ever received. But I have to be honest with you and say that I’m not famous for anything, I’m just a normal bloke with itchy feet. If I were a famous travel writer my travels would have been paid for, but as it is Jackie and I pay our own expenses.

Breakfast next morning was good for a diabetic with a buffet offering eggs, bacon, ham and cheese as well as low carb fruit (kiwi, for example). After that we had a another look at the material we had picked up at the visitor centre to plan our route for the day. We decided that we’d visit some of the places in the immediate area of the ranch as we didn’t want to spend a lot of the time driving here and there. Before we left we stopped off at the shop and bought some sandwiches and a good supply of water - highly recommended to visitors who are setting off into the desert.

First stop was Zabriskie Point - where Antonioni made a film in 1970 which I had studiously avoided ever since as it sounded like one of those pretentious vanity projects much adored by certain people who fancy themselves as intellectuals. We added Dante’s View as the second destination and then thought we’d see how much time was left before we chose a third.

We also discovered in our literature that Furnace Creek, where we were staying, held the record for the highest temperature ever recorded on earth - 134° F or 56.7° C in 1913.

Zabriskie Point was the closest so we headed off in that direction. It was only about 20 minutes drive, if that, and parking wasn’t a problem. We walked up to the lookout and were met with an astonishing sight: rock formations, weathered and shaped, stretched off in all directions ahead of us. Each rock field was a different colour and the surfaces had been carved by the weather into different patterns - runnels, gullies, grooves and flats were everywhere. Here and there we could see paths that the energetic had created by walking across this rugged landscape. On one we spotted a couple of intrepid hikers making their way along a winding route that had no ending as far as we could see. What was their destination? I don’t have the faintest idea. For all I know they could still be walking.

On our right was a spectacular view, beyond the badlands directly in front of us, of the Furnace Creek salt pan, gleaming in the unforgiving sunlight. It was, again, a harshly beautiful scene and one where we lingered for quite a while, giving our cameras a fair old workout.

From there we made for Dante’s View which, according to the leaflets we had picked up, is the highest outlook in Death Valley. As we drove we passed such delightfully named places as “Twenty mule team drive”, a name I surmised had come from the fact that you needed a team of twenty mules to traverse it. The road is unpaved and as I didn’t wish to risk damage to the hire car we didn’t drive along it. We turned off the main highway at the junction where the signpost pointed towards Dante’s View. We followed the road which was fairly straight for a while then we saw a borax mine to our left. The mining of borax and other minerals was big business but visitors are discouraged from exploring the mines and the surrounding areas due to the danger of rock falls and earth collapses. The mining industry created the 20 mule teams to transport the minerals from the mine to the outside world.

As we drove on the road became more twisty and began to rise. As we climbed we caught glimpses of the surroundings that impressed us. Pretty soon, as our route began to twist back and forth ever more frequently, I had to pay closer attention to my driving. We didn’t see any other cars and at a couple of points we pulled off the road to take in the views.

Eventually the road opened out into a paved car park where several cars were already parked. We could see a couple of groups drifting about but we had more than enough space to ourselves. We walked to the edge of the sidewalk and gazed down at an amazing panorama. Directly in front of us was a huge valley, flanked on the far side by as savage a mountain range as you are ever likely to see. Directly below us on the valley floor was a huge expanse of white which I discovered were the Badwater salt pans. Badwater was quite a considerable drive from Furnace Creek so we had decided not to take up the whole day driving there and back. The salt pans were a dazzling white in the sunlight and from our altitude of just under 5500 feet were the biggest landmark to be seen.

Whichever way we looked from that height we found breathtaking landscapes and once again lingered over the wild beauty of this incredible place.

Reluctantly we took the road back down and stopped at a spot named Artist’s Palette. Once we got out of the car we could see exactly why it has been given this name: all the way down the rocks of this canyon there are strata of wildly varying colours. Our cameras went into overdrive as we tried to capture the range of tints that we could see. When you’re surrounded by colours of a myriad of hues you can only hope that your pictures are going to do them justice.

From there we decided to drive to Stovepipe Wells, for no other reason than that I loved the sound of its name. We were on the wrong side of Furnace Creek so we had to pass the ranch and head off in the opposite direction. We passed the ranch and drove on for another 25 minutes until we came to a sign, standing all alone at the side of the road which stated simply “Stovepipe Wells - Elevation 5 feet”. We could see the town of Stovepipe Wells which appeared to be nothing much, but we pulled off the road and ate our sandwiches. After our gourmet feast we drove on to the town, but close up it wasn’t much more prepossessing than it was when seen from a distance. There was a petrol station, a motel and some houses. We pulled over, had a look around and then headed back the way we had come, having noticed a paved car park overlooking some sand dunes. These dunes proved to be of a considerable height, but having been to Namibia earlier in the year they didn’t come up to those standards but by American standards they were quite impressive.

We meandered back toward the ranch, stopping off at a couple of places to look at old mineworks or promising rock formations out of curiosity. We got back to the hotel in late afternoon, somewhat knackered, so we relaxed for a while, then packed our cases ready for an early morning departure before heading for the restaurant for another excellent meal.
I don't think I'm going to finish this report until after Christmas. Our son, whose wife passed away from a brain tumour 3 years ago, has a new lady. She's German but lives just over the border in France, speaks English and French, has a great sense of humour and likes the same kind of music as Jackie and myself. We're going to be spending a lot of time with them over the season. We are both delighted that he has someone in his life and the change in him is extraordinary. It's very, very gratifying.
So if I don't get back on here before Christmas I would like to wish everyone a very merry Christmas and a happy, healthy and prosperous New Year. Best wishes to everyone on the forum.

Before we left next morning I entered Claire and Terry’s address into the TomTom and glanced briefly at the resulting map. I should have taken a longer look and saved us some considerable detours later on. Be that as it may, we set off with high hopes of making it to Aptos that evening, the route taking us through Stovepipe Wells again. We didn’t stop this time, just carried on following the road.

There wasn’t much traffic so I was able to bomb along at a fair old lick. At one point the road travelled up a gentle gradient then curved over and went downhill. We crested the hill and I was shaken rigid - the downward stretch was so steep it felt like we had driven over a cliff. As the car’s front reached the crest there was nothing in front of us. Then we rolled over and were driving down almost vertically. Jackie and I both sucked in our breath - convinced that our time had come. I kept the wheels on the road until the tarmac began to flatten out and we were once again on a more or less horizontal surface. We breathed out simultaneously and I remarked that a warning sign ahead of that drop would have made sure that I slowed down before we began a descent like that. A few hundred yards further on there was a turnout where I pulled over and took a long drink from a bottle of cold water. Then I drove on and didn’t encounter anything like it again. Thank goodness!

Around 10.30 we were making good time. We drove through a town called Trona, which has to be the most dismal place on earth. If the Almighty decides, at some future time, to give the world an enema, Trona is where the nozzle will be inserted. The only local industry was the mining and processing of minerals, and that seemed to be on the downward slide. Many of the houses were empty and boarded up. Whole blocks had been abandoned, stores and small businesses had all seemed to have closed down. All the vehicles we saw seemed to be old, rusty and dented. Our spirits lifted when we saw Trona receding being us in the mirrors.

After a while, off to one side, we could see large thunderheads building up, black and threatening, but they appeared to be a fair way off at first. We ran into a few showers of rain but nothing to worry about. We could see that further off the storm clouds were dropping rain heavily, but the road took us around the storm area. Again without warning we saw a line of flares spread across the road. The car in front of us braked and I pulled up behind. I got out and went to have a look at the blockage. The flares were burning redly, behind them a barrier with the words “Road closed” on a sign hanging from it. I spoke to the driver of the other car but he was as baffled as we were. Was there any way around this problem, and what was the problem anyway? And if the road was blocked, which road should we take to continue our journey? The driver of the car ahead of us had no idea what was going on or what alternatives there were.

As we waited a car came down the road which had been blocked. It slowed down when the driver saw us and pulled up alongside. He told us that the heavy rainstorms had flooded the road and it was completely blocked. “Any chance of getting through?” I asked. He shook his head, “Not a chance.” He drove on and I went back to the car and talked about the problem. The only thing I could think of was to program the GPS to calculate an alternative route. The route it devised seemed to be a bit eccentric to me, but over the years I’ve nevertheless learned to trust it. After half an hour I began to get an uneasy feeling that we were heading off in entirely the wrong direction. We pulled off the road and studied the map we had. It wasn’t a very detailed map but what I saw on it made me make a decision to ignore the GPS, turn around and carry on in the opposite direction. Then I felt that after an hour or so’s driving I would enter our destination in the GPS and see what it gave us. I knew that along the way we needed to pass close to Bakersfield, so if the route it gave us fulfilled that intention we would be happy bunnies. And it did!

We stopped to fill up the car and have a coffee, then stopped for lunch after another couple of hours. Once again the only choice of eating places was which fast food place to choose. We settled on In ’n Out, as our experience was that they had the best hamburgers; their coffee is pretty good, too.

We plugged on, passing the great blocks of almond trees in the opposite direction this time. It was clear that with all the detours we weren’t going to make it back to Claire’s and Terry’s at a reasonable time, so around 5 p.m. we began looking for a hotel to spend the night.As it always seems to be the case that whenever we start looking for a hotel or a restaurant we don’t pass one for hours, so it proved this time. We didn’t see a sign or a hoarding for any type of hotel for about the next 50 miles. Finally, Jackie went onto “Points of interest” in the GPS and entered Hotels. A list came up, among the entries we saw “Best Western”, which in our experience is usually a reliable chain of clean, comfortable hostelries. We tapped that and followed the instructions. We came off the freeway at a town called Kettleman and found the Best Western fairly quickly.

They had a room and we checked in, unpacked the car and relaxed for a while.

When dinnertime rolled around we asked in Reception for info on any decent restaurants. There didn’t seem to be a great choice but we went off to see what was available. The most likely looking place was called Bravo Farms, a large building a short walk from the hotel. It was one of those wooden built structures which are to be found all over the place in the States, which never seem very inviting. Both inside and out they appear somewhat decrepit, not very clean and, especially inside, very, very dusty.

There was a family waiting to be seated just inside the entrance, so we took our turn and waited behind them. The menu was written on several blackboards mounted on the wall, which we spent the time perusing. A Member of staff came up and told us all that they didn’t have the chicken, the beef, or the pork. Added to this they only sold beer and wine. With no chance of a decent meal (I’m a dyed in the wool carnivore) or a decent drink Jackie and I left and went on with our search. We had plenty of choice - McDonald’s, In ’n’ Out, Taco Bell, Carl’s Jr and Starbuck’s. I remarked to Jackie that no one had told this town that Prohibition had ended in 1933. There just wasn’t anywhere to get a drink, either before dinner or after it, which was a dismal prospect indeed. On top of that, the choice was fast food - take it or leave it.

We finally settled for In’n’ Out (yes, I know that’s what we had for lunch) and had a cheeseburger and a coffee. Here I was, a Type 2 diabetic, and I had a hamburger twice in one day. I was not a happy chappie, but what else can one do?We ambled back to our room after that, feeling deprived. I do enjoy my aperitif of a straight whisky, no ice, no mixer. Just whisky.

The hotel’s breakfast next morning brightened us up with eggs, bacon, ham and coffee. We resumed our drive towards Aptos where we arrived in the afternoon, having followed, more or less, the same route we had taken on the way down.

Claire and Terry suggested we pay a visit for dinner at their favourite Mexican restaurant in Capitola, a short drive away. Jackie and I both love Tex-Mex food so we agreed without any argument whatsoever And for an aperitif Jackie had a hefty Margarita, and I had a Jack Daniel’s. Lovely jubbly.

The rest of our stay slid by far too quickly and it seemed like no time at all had passed before we were bidding our hosts a sad farewell and were back on the BA flight to Heathrow.

However, before Christmas arrived I came across a cruise of the Danube from Nuernberg to the Black Sea, traversing the entire navigable length of the river. That is our next trip in April and we’re both looking forward to it immensely. As Jackie says, we’ll be able to visit all these places and we can unpack our bags on the boat and forget about them. Touring normally means that you spend a great deal of time rummaging in the suitcases while searching for a particular shirt. Neither of us can whip up much enthusiasm for a sea cruise as the ships look like giant floating apartment blocks, but when river cruising the boats are much smaller and you get to meet most of your fellow passengers. You can’t knock that!

We’d been waiting for a long time. Our reservations were made back in the summer of 2015 and we were really looking forward to it. We’d been looking for a company that did a cruise taking in the whole of the navigable part of the Danube and we finally found one in Great Rail Journey’s catalogue. Most river cruise companies had suspended the cruises of the whole length and replaced their schedules with journeys that went only from Vienna to Budapest and back - a cruise that took just about a week. Apparently it was to do with the conflict in the Ukraine, which borders on the Danube at the Black Sea end.

However, the company that operates the Amadeus ships on the Danube were starting the whole length cruises again so we jumped in and made our reservations for the beginning of April. As the group departure was scheduled to take the Eurostar from St Pancras to Brussels we opted to meet them in Brussels Midi station where they arrived, thus cutting out a double journey all the way to London and back to Brussels, and gaining a reduction in the cost of the cruise which we applied to an upgraded cabin on the top deck.

We decided that we would take the train from Luxembourg to Brussels the day before so there wouldn’t be any risk of being delayed en route and missing them. The company’s tour manager called us at home a week or so in advance and we arranged a spot to meet up (Sam’s Cafe, if anyone’s interested). I booked a room at the Park Inn Hotel, situated a convenient hundred metres from the station.

We booked a taxi to pick us up at home and drop us off at the station, and hoping to allow for any possible traffic delays we arranged the pickup to give us plenty of time. Which was just as well, as when we arrived at the station we discovered that the service to Arlon (the first stop on the journey) had been suspended by work on the track and we would have to take the bus to Arlon and join the train there.

We confirmed which of the stops outside the station would be our boarding point, bought a couple of sandwiches and bottles of water, and went outside to climb onto the bus. The only other occupants when we pulled away was a Muslim family and a younger couple sitting near the front.The bus driver avoided the busiest routes and quickly had us on the autoroute towards Belgium. A half-hour later we pulled into the station bus stop and disembarked with plenty of time to find out which platform we needed to be on to join the train. A short walk, leading our luggage like well-behaved dogs, brought us to the correct platform and a few moments later the train pulled in. One of the advantages of being of pensionable age is that in Europe the concessionary fares are very attractive. We once spent a long weekend in Paris with the rail journey costing us €90 return each on the TGV (high speed train), first class. You can’t look that kind of a gift horse in the mouth so we had booked seat in first class for little more than the regular fare in 2nd class.

The journey was comfortable and quiet and we felt quite happy when we pulled into Midi station. The exit from the station was just a short walk from the hotel so we were checked in and relaxing in our room in a short space of time. Computerised systems now make it so much faster to check in than previously and I had taken advantage to check in the night before online. There was a terminal in the lobby, which I somehow managed not to notice, where we could have checked in without speaking a word to anyone in reception. It would have issued us our room keys automatically, but having failed to note its presence I checked in at the desk instead.

Once in our room we freshened up and went out to look for Sam’s Cafe in the station. It wasn’t too difficult as it’s the biggest cafe in the entire concourse so we returned to our room to relax for a while before dinner.

When the alarm clock in my stomach went off we made our way down to the bar for our obligatory g and t for Jackie and whisky for me. We savoured our drinks in the comfort of the lounge bar and talked over what we would do tomorrow. The group was arriving at 12.05 so apart from making sure we were there in good time to meet them there wasn’t much else to do.

After our drinks we went into the restaurant for dinner, which was an enjoyable experience with good meals and wine that was quite reasonably priced.

After dinner we treated ourselves to another g and t, etc., which we made last a long time, then Jackie went up to our room and I went out for a walk as I hadn’t had any real exercise that day and I try to be disciplined about that. A short stroll away I passed an Ibis hotel which had two armed soldiers standing in the entrance. I was a little astonished at this visual evidence of the high level of alert in Europe’s cities and I stared a little too long. Both soldiers stared stonily back, so hoping that I hadn’t broken any protocol I smiled and nodded at them. After all, they would be protecting me in the event of any trouble, I thought. They smiled back and nodded and I went on. The areas around most mainline stations are rarely the most salubrious quarters, but this was quiet (or maybe I was just too early for the high jinks to start).

I did a bit of window shopping then turned and walked past our hotel and walked on in the opposite direction. When I felt I had done my regulation 30 minutes minimum I turned back for the hotel and within minutes was in our room watching BBC television, which can be received clearly in Brussels.

Next morning, having nothing pressing to do, we took a late breakfast (buffet style) repacked our overnight bag and relaxed until the checkout hour.

Once we had paid our bill we led our cases across the street and back into Midi station. We made our way to Sam’s Cafe, found a table with a clear view of the Eurostar arrival/departure area and bought a couple of coffees.We didn’t have long to wait after the Eurostar arrived before we saw a likely looking group come out and wait with their luggage for their tour manager. He duly arrived a few seconds behind them, so I made my way over to him and introduced myself. He had been waiting to see if his late-arriving couple of guests were on hand, and indeed we were. He told us that the group was going to join the train to Wuerzburg where we would spend the night in the Maritim Hotel.

As we waited on the platform we chatted to some of the members of the group, wondering if they would be a good group or just an ordinary one. The dynamics of groups are worth a study as the group can make or break one’s enjoyment of the trip. The group we had joined in South Africa was a wonderful bunch of travelling companions and enhanced the enjoyment for everybody. In Tibet, on the other hand, I found them to be unsympathetic (with a couple of exceptions) and the kind of people I didn’t want to spend too much time with. What would this bunch of people be, I wondered. We’ll know in a few days, I told myself.