Travelogues
...headin' down the highway
lookin' for adventure...

March 3, 2000 - Friday, Afternoon

Roger and I board the Orca II, a large cabin cruiser that will take us to the dolphins in the open ocean and to the most Northeastern point of the Bay of Islands and eventually circle around an island known as the Hole in the Rock. According to the brochure, our three-hour cruise also promises an adventure inside the Cathedral Cave and a genuine Maori welcome.

Our Maori guide climbs aboard after 50+ fellow tourists are settled in and tells us that he and the crew will make every effort to find dolphins for us. As the boat leaves the dock, Roger and I find a comfortable seat on the back of the cruiser and are immediately mesmerized by the wake of the boat and the deep, blue green waters. I'm not sure why, but I'm certain we will see the dolphins today.

Within half an hour, I hear excitement near the front of the boat and holding on to the railings I rush forward to see what all the noise is about.

I see my first dolphin 20 or more yards away along the side of the boat. Within minutes, we spot more and as the boat slows down the dolphins get closer and closer to us. They seem to be playing with us and I can't help but lean over the side and began laughing and talking to one particular dolphin who is only a few yards away. It's obvious he and his buddies are very much aware of our presence and have joined us for the fun of it.

As we watch them leap and swim alongside the boat, our Maori guide tell us that dolphins spend 75% or their time socializing. It is easy to see as they play together and then cross the bow of the boat, leaping and teasing us. I am struck at how beautiful they are in their own element. There is a feeling of absolute freedom about them and at the same time they are one and the same with the ocean. The guide tells us that the dolphin's world in the ocean is immense. They will swim over 100 miles in one day. He quotes Cousteau as saying, "Confining a dolphin in a marine park or zoo is like taking a human and putting him in solitary confinement." He also tells us that dolphins live only two years in captivity compared to 20+ in their own environment.

I could spend the entire three hours watching the dolphins but within 30 or more minutes, we speed off towards Cape Bret and a small island appropriately named Cathedral Cave. As the boat slows and begins to back into the cave, we are enveloped in a bluest of blue sea mist. Once chirping with excitement, my fellow tourists and I are hushed. The only thing we are aware of is the heavenly blue translucent mist swirling above the water, covering every space, and spiraling to the farthest peak of the inner cave. If stalagmites were vaporized this is what they would look like. It is over-powering and I have a profound sense of timelessness. It is as if we are absorbed by the magical mist-- so still and quiet that I begin to doubt if we are even breathing.

Ever so slowly the boat's motors are turned back on and we ease our way out of our dreamy cave state. The bright sun and the water violently slapping the sides of the boat as we pick up speed startle me and I find myself in real time and space. Wow. What was in the New Zealand green lipped mussels I had for lunch?

The Hole in the Rock is only a few miles away and as the captain turns off the motor, our guide tells us that the winds and waves are too rough today to attempt going through the hole which is a mere 15 meters wide but looks deceptively large in the photo

My stomach is moving in sync with the waves and I am relieved that after a few minutes for photos, we turn around and head back towards land. We have about an hour left of cruising and I pass a few minutes with the boat's videographer. She is an American and a delightful young woman. She tells me about the playful partnership of various sea birds and the dolphins. Roger meanwhile is looking at them through his telescopic lens and gets a shot of a magnificent albatross.

Within a brief span of time, this young woman and I are able to share our love of dolphins and beautiful beaches. We find out that we lived in Portugal and miss the country with equal longing. I also learned that her widowed father was recently married on the beach at Hotel Del Coronado as was my daughter a few years ago and that she and I had both lived on Coronado Island at about the same time. It takes so little time to really connect and when that happens I am always blown away with the connections.

The boat stops again along the bay of one of the beautiful islands so that our Maori guide can gather the group for a demonstration of the Haka, the Maori war chant. Roger reminds me that I have probably seen this before at the Polynesian Cultural Center in Hawaii. (Roger and I lived in Hawaii about the same time in the mid-70's but didn't meet until 1995.) He explains the Haka is done by men standing in a line facing the enemy with their legs spread apart, knees bent, and arms open forming a semi circle as if they are ready at any moment to crush their enemies. Their faces are etched in deep blue and henna tattoos curving in smooth round lines, completely covering their faces.

The chant is very loud and purposely vicious with hard slaps to the legs and deep guttural sounds. It is meant to not only scare the enemy but also to put the warriors in a state of fearlessness. The Haka always ends with the warrior making a hideous face, eyes ready to pop out, and his tongue extended and flat against his chin--like a cobra ready to strike. We stick our tongue out and it looks childishly rude. When a Maori warrior does it, he looks as if he is ready to disembowel you.

Our Maori guide is a bit more cosmopolitan sans tattoos and donning a khaki safari shirt to avoid the hot late afternoon sun.

He nevertheless manages to intimidate us into nervously repeating the chant with him as he translates the strange sounds into English.

Comate..Comate.. Is it life
Wat a hey Wat a hey Is it death

There are many more words to the chant; each accompanied by wild gestures, slaps to the legs, and menacing movements with the entire body. I want to write all the words but I'm having far too much fun contorting my body into a Maori Warrior and I soon put my notebook aside and really get into it. The body movements are similar to the curving moves of Tai Chi but done so violently that an out of shape 51 year old woman could easily break a bone just by executing the first stomp-slap. Realizing just that, I reluctantly exercise a little restraint when we begin again with a second practice round.

Our guide points to the island before us and explains that it was the scene of a horrible Maori battle, popularly known as the "Girls War" which took place in the mid-1700's.

Looking at this incredibly peaceful place, I struggle to imagine teenage girls duking it out while our guide starts the story, "It started with two women and the English seafarer, Captain Brind. Though the good Captain had a wife in England, he was also quite friendly with the locals having two Maori wives who lived several kilometers away from one another. When the girls quite innocently began discussing their husbands and realized they were one and the same, their families got involved and the net result was over 100 people dead."

Showing us a wooden war instrument designed to rip off an ear, our Maori guide explains that in Maori culture at that time, it was far worse to be maimed than to be killed in battle.

After his demonstration and lecture, he noticed my note taking and curiously came over and sat down by me. He explained that his mother's generation was denied the right to speak their own language and assimilating into the white man's culture was paramount to survival-not unlike what we did to our own native Americans. However, by the time he was a child attitudes had changed and he was sent away to a Maori boarding school, in part, to learn more about the Maori culture.

I ask him if he does this (lectures to tourists) full time and if he enjoys it. His smile was beatific and his eyes glowed as he talked about his love of the ocean, the beautiful islands, the dolphins, and his culture. This is a man who genuinely loves what he does. I am so caught up in his enthusiasm and his stories, that I never ask him his name. Regretfully but perhaps appropriately, he will always be known as our Maori guide.

Roger who has been busy with his pictures, finally notices our animated conversation and with just a hint of, "Hey what's going on here" in his eyes, he strolls over to join us. I'm flattered that Roger is just a tiny bit jealous. Before Roger crosses the deck to join us, our Maori is called away by a crew member on the top deck. I begin to excitedly relate bits and pieces of our conversation but Roger and I are interrupted by the crashing sound of a speed boat packed with people and appearing to be screaming full speed ahead with our boat directly in the cross hairs of it's sharply pointed bow.

As the speed demon veers at the last moment and I know I'm still alive, I stammer, "What was that." Roger pokes me in the ribs playfully and says, "Must be those New Zealand pirates again."

Riding the tender back to the Sky Princess, we are exhausted and ready to relax. Roger begins his afternoon ritual of checking over his camera and getting ready to load the digital camera in his "special" camera backpack. Our seat mates, a couple sitting across from us and obviously fellow passengers aboard the Princess, look as tired as we are but the husband can't keep his eyes off Roger's camera. Feigning innocence, he asks, "What kind of camera is that?"

Roger perks up, gives the camera a loving pat and says, "It's a Sony digital still." Roger expertly ejects the floppy disk and holds it up to the fellow to demonstrate the wonders of modern technology.

The fellow picks up his camera hidden from view on the seat beside him and nonchalantly puts it in his lap and says, "Oh, nice," and quickly adds, " Mine's a Minolta digital, latest version-- digital 350 mg HARD drive." He cocks his head to one side and pushes a button dramatically. With his thumb and index finger, he holds up his hard drive within inches of Roger's face and says, "Yep, about the size of postage stamp."

Roger slumps just a tad but begins fiddling with his zoom lens, and counters, "Got a zoom ratio of 14 to 1." Slowly and deliberately, the fellow unscrews his telescopic lens to at least 9 inches, and with unveiled macho states, "Interchangeable 35 mm lenses.

One can actually see the testosterone building as they go on and on with their dueling cameras. When Roger reaches into his backpack for his Nikon, I can't help but release a long suppressed giggle. Our fellow seat mate's wife joins me and we are like two children in church trying desperately not to laugh but giving into it with each counter from our husbands. The deadly serious contest continues even as we climb off the tender onto the ship. The fellow tells Roger, "Maybe we can get together later and I'll show you my...." As I not so gently usher Roger to our cabin, I whisper, "Not in a million years, babycakes."

By the time we wash up, dress, and have a quick cocktail with Joe and Connie, it's time for another formal dinner in the Regency dining room. Our waiters Jose and Daniel, totally charming with welcoming smiles and brisk formal European service, are from Portugal. I speak to them in Portuguese and they very kindly ask if I am from Brazil. I am appreciative of their kindness regarding my rusty Portuguese but too tired to go into a lengthy explanation (especially in Portuguese), I smile and say, "No, I speak Southern Portuguese." Since I was born and reared in Alabama, I guess it could possibly be true.

I'm not sure how I will get through the six courses tonight but I somehow manage. One thing is for certain, it may be 10:30 and I may be a walking zombie struggling to stay awake way past my bedtime; but, I still have the stamina to order and eat my crème brule.

Before joining Joe and Connie in the show lounge for the Las Vegas style review of "New York, New York," Roger very wisely escorts me to our cabin. Roger bends down to tuck me in with a sweet good night kiss but I am already in never, never land, dreaming of watery caves and smiling dolphins.