Monday, January 29, 2018

Seattle to Alberta in Winter

Damn it.  I would have used the stronger F word, but didn’t feel quite that strongly about it.  We awoke in our Seattle home to heavy rain and wind.

We had been planning to leave today on a mid-winter drive from Seattle to Alberta, Canada and back for Christmas as we had done many times over the last 30 years.  Although the storm was going to make the drive harder, it was going to make the drive more youthfully adventuresome.

First, a few things you need to know about weather in the U.S. northwest and western Canada.

Weather


It’s well-known that Seattle has many cloudy, grey days and that on many of those days it rains.  But it’s usually only a piddle; some light rain periodically throughout the day  …  only sporadic and gentle, not a downpour.  More annual rainfall occurs most every place east of, and including, Houston, Tulsa, and Kansas City, throughout most of Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio and most areas east and south of there, including the entire east coast … even at Mar-a-Lago. 

Click on any image in the blog to enlarge it
The map is from an article "Seattle Is Far From America's Rainiest City" by John Metcalf in CityLab comparing Seattle's weather with the rest of the US, (located here).

In the northwest weather tends not to change much from south to north.  The weather between Eugene, Oregon; Seattle, Washington; and Vancouver, British Columbia is remarkably similar. But it changes dramatically from west to east, and from low elevations to high mountain passes.

West of the Cascades it’s usually mild; the countryside is dense with fir trees or green farmland, cooler in the summer and warmer in the winter than east of the Cascade Mountains.  East of the Cascades the countryside is much drier with vast dry expanses, much warmer in the summer and much colder in the winter.  The reason:  a number of mountain ranges separate the mild west coast from the dryer and harsher interior.  One of Seattle’s best weathermen describes the mountains’ impact on weather, described here.

In the northwest storms tend to move from southwest to northeast.  The drenching windy downpour suggested that we’d have a stormy trip on our northeastward journey.

Our Route


There are essentially 3 routes to drive from Seattle to Calgary, Alberta, and a few alternatives.


 From Google Maps (c) - Click on any image in the blog to enlarge it

Option 1 – Via Trans Canada Highway: 
The most well-known route is the Trans Canada Highway through British Columbia, taking Highway 5 through the Coquihalla Pass to Kamloops, thence Highway 1 to Revelstoke and Roger’s Pass in Canada’s Glacier National Park (not to the confused with the US Glacier National Park in Montana), thence through the Rockies to Banff and Calgary.  In general, according to Google Maps, it’s about an 11.5 hour drive (wheels-turning, not including stops) – 1,082 km = 672 miles.

Option 2 – Via Cranbrook:
Our preferred route, and the one we planned to take this trip:  I-90 eastward from Seattle through Snoqualmie Pass, through Spokane to Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, thence US 95 to Cranbrook, BC then via BC’s and Alberta’s Highway 3 through the Crowsnest Pass, thence up either Highway 2 or 22 to Calgary.  According to Google Maps, it’s about a 12 hour drive (wheels-turning, not including stops) – 1,142 km = 709 miles.

We prefer this route under most circumstances.  For the most part he road is as good or better than the Trans Canada.  Long stretches are on the I-90 freeway through the flats of eastern Washington.  Both routes have long stretches of two lane highway that passes through many small towns, but it’s less heavily trafficked than the Trans Canada, and has far less trucks and congestion to contend with.  Especially in winter, it is far less susceptible to major snow storms or avalanche events than is the Trans Canada in the Coquihalla Pass or Rogers Pass east of Revelstoke.

Option 2A - Kootenay National Park:
Sometimes Highway 3 through the Crowsnest Pass at the BC/Alberta border can be frightfully (dangerously) windy.  At such times, or just for the mountainous scenery, it’s better to take Highway 93 from Cranbrook through Kootenay National Park and Banff to Calgary, even though that route is through a higher mountain pass.  That isn’t much different from any of the other options: about a 12.4 hour drive, 1,146 km = 712 miles 


Option 3 - Montana: 
This is a great route for a more leisurely drive or vacation.  A few times, for a change of scenery we’ve taken this route :  I-90 from Seattle to St. Regis, Montana thence MT 135, MT 28, & US 93 to Kalispell, Montana, thence through the US’s Glacier National Park to Browning, MT, thence north to Calgary and Banff.  It’s only a couple of hours longer, about 13.4 hours per Google Maps, 1,392 km = 865 miles.  

From Google Maps  (c)

During a leisurely vacation the highlights of the Option 3 - Montana route could include:

Wallace Idaho – an historic silver mining town filled with 19th century buildings.   http://www.wallaceidahochamber.com/  It is a center of many outdoor activities, skiing in the winter (at Silver Mountain and Lookout Pass) and especially bicycling in the summer – see the many bicycle trails here https://friendsofcdatrails.org/. Two of the area’s more famous bicycling trails are the 15-mile-long Hiawatha which includes 7 old railroad trestles and 10 tunnels http://www.ridethehiawatha.com/ and the paved 71 mile long Trail of the Coeur d’Alenes that follows an easy railroad grade. https://friendsofcdatrails.org/trail-of-the-coeur-dalenes/

Flathead Lake, Montana – said to be the largest natural freshwater lake in the US west of the Mississippi http://www.visitmt.com/listings/general/lake/flathead-lake.html

Kalispell and Whitefish, Montana –year-around active resort and tourist towns thriving on their surrounding scenery and recreational activities. http://www.explorewhitefish.com/

Glacier National Park, Montanahttp://www.visitmt.com/glacier.html famous for its scenery, its Going To The Sun highway (closed in winter), and its hiking and cross-country skiing. In the past we’ve stayed to cross-country ski at the Izaak Walton Inn at the US 2 summit – a former railway bunkhouse for rail crews, since transformed into a not-too-rustic lodge http://www.izaakwaltoninn.com/

Waterton Lakes National Park, Alberta http://www.pc.gc.ca/en/pn-np/ab/waterton/info which, together with Glacier National Park, is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump World Heritage Site, Alberta, an historical site with a small but excellent interpretive center on the Native American Indians and their relationship with buffalo http://history.alberta.ca/headsmashedin/


Highways 22 & 40 – Backdoor to Banff  In the summer a slow but scenic way to get from the Glacier-Waterton Parks Area to Banff is via Alberta Highway 22 (through rolling hills at the foot of the Rockies, Cowboy Country with large cattle ranches to Longview ... See Trip Advisor review  here ), thence highway 541 (closed in winter) which leads into the Rockies, eventually becoming highway 40 through the Kananaskis Country https://kananaskis.com/ … a backdoor way to Banff.  You should take more than a summer day to enjoy it.



Pictures of Alberta Highway 22 - The Cowboy Trail

Our Trip


As always, prior to a winter driving trip, we prepped the car.  Checked that the antifreeze was good for minus 40F. (In Alberta it rarely gets that cold, but temperatures in the minus 20-30F range aren’t uncommon( and indeed, a low of minus 27F (minus 35C) occurred in Red Deer, Alberta on Christmas Day while we were there).

Although I had about 4mm of tread left on my old mud and snow tires, that’s getting pretty minimal for use in snow and on ice, so I got a new set of Mud & Snow (M&S) tires.  If one lives in Alberta or eastern Washington or eastern BC, it’s normal to get a set of winter tires and change them out in the summer.  However, IMHO full-on winter tires don’t work well in the rain of western Washington, the soft cold-weather rubber in them wears poorly in Seattle's warmth,  and they are a needless extra expense.

Although my car is all-wheel drive I threw in my chains. In any case, it’s important to check what various jurisdictions require.  Oregon, Washington, British Columbia, Alberta and Idaho all have different requirements on whether or not and when full-on winter tires or mud and snow tires or chains are required. British Columbia's requirements for full-on winter or Mud & Snow tires are here and yes, sometimes they do check and will ticket if your tires don't comply. At least my mud and snow tires and the chains that I carry (but which I’ve never had to use on my all-wheel-drive car) meet the requirements in all 5 jurisdictions. (Before I had all-wheel drive I froze my fingers often enough putting on chains.)

When we woke up to the rain we fired up the computer for the weather report and the Snoqualmie Pass road report;  I-90 over the pass was closed because of the number of spinouts and truck crashes, but was expected to open in an hour or so. We decided to chance it;  we finished packing the car and were off.

By the time we got to North Bend, 30 miles from Seattle, the last town before I-90 begins its long climb to the pass, I-90 had been opened but was again closed due to collisions and spin outs.  We stopped for lunch … by the time we were done the pass reopened, so off we went again.

I-90 is one of the easier ways across the Cascades – a 3-lane freeway each direction through Snoqualmie Pass.  Because its one of the easier routes it’s crowded with trucks and with many drivers and cars not experienced nor equipped to drive in snow.  (When given the choice I prefer driving over more severe mountain passes where the drivers are more likely to be prepared and experienced.)

One of the problems at Snoqualmie is that on the west side it usually starts as rain and very gradually turns to snow at higher elevations, and often one is met by the worst of all possible conditions: a mix of freezing rain and snow, with ice imperceptibly on the roadway.

People tend to underestimate the difficulty of driving in those mixed rain/ice/snow conditions. It's much more dicey than driving through many inches of fresh snow.

In the mid 70’s I was driving my old chevy van full of guys on a cross-country ski trip from Vancouver BC.  The freeway there is straight for miles until near Abbotsford there is a long sweeping curve.  It was just before daybreak; the temperature was hovering around freezing.  The freeway didn’t seem or look slippery, so like everyone else I was going at or slightly above the speed limit.  I had noticed that there was a bit of freshly laid sand on the road … a good warning.  Just before the big curve there was an exit – which the sand truck had obviously taken.  I took the clue and gradually slowed (didn’t use brakes).  As we approached the curve we could see the taillights in front of us spinning in “playful” loops.  When we got to the curve there were dozens (probably an exaggeration) of cars having spun out into the adjacent field.  Since we had all just finished a mountaineering first aid course we stopped (*very carefully* parking outside of what seemed to be the common spinning trajectory).  While we were out checking on people (all were OK, but some shaken) we kept an eye on the headlights coming down the freeway.  You could see a few cars slowly slowing in advance … you knew you didn’t have to worry about them spinning into you. But most didn’t slow down … and we’d quickly dart for cover.


Although the I-90 freeway didn’t seem slippery, the readerboards were lighted saying “Chains required on all vehicles except AWD”.  Although the road looked deceptively safe, because of the amount of traffic everyone was going slow.  We passed lots of trucks and non-AWD cars with just normal summer tires trying to make it without chains – and they could make it – unless they stopped or unless they skidded or unless they had to brake.  A fair number of those were crashed, or stuck having slid in the snow, or stopped unable to move without traction.

But we finally made it over the summit.  On the east side of the pass it was colder but the roads were alternately dry or had just a bit of dry snow … easy driving.

In the wide valley east of Snoqualmie Pass, near Ellensburg, and again in the flat farming country east of the Columbia River one passes large metal and or plastic sheds storing bales of hay.  Because of the combination of climate and soil type, this area produces a tremendous amount of unusually nutritious alfalfa that is exported world-wide.  Some of the facilities have signs in Arabic; their hay is flown to Saudi Arabia and other mid-east countries to feed, amongst other animals, race horses.  It is one of the many examples of US agriculture relying on exporting into a thriving world trade system.

One of my favorite parts of the drive is near Vantage where I-90 crosses the Columbia River.

To the river’s west a long twisting canyon with a steep grade leads down to the river.  Near its western top are miles of windmills and amidst them, a roadside rest area.  One summer we had stopped there.  We noticed an information sign about the Wild Horse Wind and Solar Facility & Renewable Energy Center nearby.  https://pse.com/inyourcommunity/ToursandRecreation/WildHorse/Pages/default.aspx  (Not open in winter).  Including the drive to it and wandering around and taking one of their tours it had taken 3 or 4 hours, but was well worth it.  It was amazing getting up close and personal with the windmills. To quote from its webpage: “Set high on a ridge, the Renewable Energy Center provides an up-close look at the facility’s 149 wind turbines, as well as 360 degree views of Mount Rainier, Mount Adams, Mount Hood, and the Columbia River Basin. 



Those windmill blades are a lot bigger than they look when installed on the windmills

About 2 miles east of the river is the Wanapum Viewpoint and Columbia River Scenic Overlook (for westbound traffic) https://inspiredimperfection.com/adventures/wanapum-viewpoint/ and the separate Wild Horse Monument Scenic Viewpoint for eastbound traffic. They’re closed in winter, but we often stop in other seasons for a quick view and to stretch our legs.  It’s well-worthwhile to get out of the car and walk along its short trails to the edge of the eastern beginnings of the Columbia River gorge.

Photos from an earlier summer trip.

Most of our drive today and the first half of tomorrow’s drive would be through the remnants of some of the largest and most violent floods in the modern earth’s geologic history: the Missoula Floods (plural).

Click on any image in the blog to enlarge it
The Columbia River Gorge and almost all of Washington east of it had been transformed and shaped by a series of massive floods with amounts of water 60 times the flow of the Amazon River racing up to 50 miles per hour.  It left massive rock coulees and strange landforms throughout the region - an example is at Sun Lakes - Dry Falls State Park (Its website is here) where there are dry cliffs from a waterfall five times the size of Niagara Falls.

The map above is from, and a good explanation can be found at, the website "Glacial Lake Missoula and the Ice Age Floods" by the Montana Natural History Center, which you can find here.


But enough geologic history.  It was getting dusk when we entered the flat farmland east of the Columbia.  Between George and Moses Lake, during the Christmas season for 20 miles or so the farmers move their summer sprinkler systems to near the highway to support the lighted displays of “Country Christmas". 

Yes, the reflections and glare from the road are from ice

From the Columbia River eastward for a hundred miles, through the area of the massive Missoula floods,  is a vast flat agricultural area that grows a tremendous amount of alfalfa, dry grains like wheat, and potatoes.  It’s always been a puzzle to me. The area is one of the politically redder, minimal-government areas in Washington, with its votes split between either the tea party or the traditional mainline GOP.  But it’s a traditional high-country desert with a sandy soil, sparse native grasslands, and sage brush.  The only reasons farms can exist in the area is the federal-government-created Grand Coulee Dam and its Columbia Basin Irrigation Project bringing water to this parched land.  And part of the reason the farms economically thrive is from the federal government’s farm subsidy programs.

Because of the dams on the Columbia River, the area is rich in electricity supplied by government projects.  That has allowed the major towns of the Columbia Basin region like Moses Lake to thrive with Google’s, Apple’s, Microsoft’s, and Amazon’s huge cloud server farms, and other high-tek industries like Germany’s BMW’s carbon-fiber plants in Moses Lake and Moses Lake Industries’ high-tek materials innovation and production plants.  I’m puzzled why the politics of the area is so enamored with ways to limit the hand that has allowed it to thrive.

The heritage of the area is farming-community-conservative.  Many of its settlers came from the Dakotas with heritage stretching back to immigration in the late 1800’s and early 1900’s from the steppes of eastern Europe like Bessarabia in what is now Ukraine and Romania and parts of Russia.  Near the center of the area, between Moses Lake and Ritzville, the Mennonite Country Auction has been held for the last 41 years each October to raise money for the Mennonite Central Committee’s (MCC) worldwide relief efforts that “include providing material aid, such as wheat, beans, clothing and medical supplies to meet emergency needs, and agricultural development and water conservation projects to improve life in communities around the globe.  [This] sale has contributed over $1.5 million to MCC over the past 38 years.”  The hand-made quilts auctioned here are phenomenal, each representing hundred of hours of care-full work. https://www.mennomennonite.org/650-2/

Normally we speed through the area and make it all the way from Seattle to Cranbrook, BC in one day, even in winter – normally a 7.5 hour drive.  But because of the Snoqualmie Pass slowdowns and the icy roads we made it only as far as Spokane that night.  The next morning was sunny and icy cold.  There was little snow in Spokane, but the reports were that there had been lots of snow a bit north towards Cranbrook.  So we relaxed in the morning and started late, about 10, to give the roads a chance to thaw a bit and the road crews to do their plowing and sanding.

North of Coeur d’Alene, Idaho US 95 makes its way past the dense traffic of suburban sprawl, and past the sprawling thrill-rides and roller-coasters (plural) of the Silverwood Amusement Park, into farm land.  Driving north of Sandpoint (a tourist town on a major lake and next to the Schweitzer Mountain ski resort) the farms become sparser and the intermittent stands of trees gradually become forests.

In all of eastern Washington pickups seem to outnumber cars.  Continuing north on US 95 the pickups seem to get bigger, with bigger wheels and more muscular tires, many with snowplows mounted on the front.  This is self-sufficient backwoods country (and unfortunately a haunted by a few neo-Nazis and white supremacists).

North of Bonners Ferry the highway begins climbing into the mountains towards Canada.  Idaho does a good job of keeping the highway plowed … and they use lots of de-icing chemicals on the road.





There was only a 3 car wait at the remote Eastport / Kingsgate border crossing into Canada.

From the border highway BC 95 continues north through mountains and then for many miles (13 km’s in Canada) alongside Moyie Lake to today’s destination, Cranbrook.

In BC and Alberta roads are maintained differently than in Idaho.  Often, instead of trying to keep the roads bare by using de-icing chemicals, and risking frozen black ice overnight, in the BC mountains the roads are kept plowed but leaving a layer of snow with sand used sparingly.  I drive differently here.  When there’s wet snow, like over Snoqualmie Pass, everyone keeps their wheels in the two bare strips created by the traffic’s tires – less likely to lose control when the tires get grabbed by slippery slush or wet sticky heavy snow.  But on dry “Compact Snow and Ice” (the description that appears often on road reports), depending on conditions, I keep my wheels to the side of the most worn tracks - tires tend to kick sand out of the tracks which then tend to be more slippery.  Just to the side of those tracks the sand tends to accumulate and the texture of the snow and ice tends to be more comfortably “grippy”.


Cranbrook is our usual overnight stopping point between Seattle and Alberta.  Unfortunately, the drive coming and going doesn’t leave much time for exploration, and so far, we’ve just done one-night-stands there.  But hopefully before too long we’ll stay longer for more explorations around Cranbrook.

One thing that I’ve wanted to do is to visit the Cranbrook History Museum (Its website is here) which includes the Canadian Museum of Rail Travel  which, according to its website, contains:
“a collection of 28 railway cars of which 17 are currently available for tours to the public. Highlights of the collection include the 7 cars of the 1929 “Trans-Canada Limited” (a classic “Jazz Era Art Deco” design), 2 cars of the 1907 “Soo-Spokane Train” (a deluxe example of “Edwardian Art Nouveau Elegance”), and the 1927 executive night car “Strathcona” which has housed many VIP guests during its time in service, including Queen Elizabeth II and Sir Winston Churchill.
The current collection of rail travel cars, the largest in North America, is in a process of continued restoration that will take decades to complete.”
Because of our short drive today I’d hoped to have a chance to see it. But alas, because of the heavy snow the previous night, its parking lot was unplowed and it seemed closed.

We stayed in one of our favorite motels anywhere … we’ve stayed here on every trip through the area since we found it: The Lake Elizabeth Lodge.  http://elizabethlakelodge.com/  It’s unassuming … it probably would typically be considered a 3 star motel, but its quality is definitely 5 star … its rooms are well appointed and comfortable and is the cleanest place I’ve ever stayed.  It was built in stages planned and overseen by a local family between 2006 and 2016 and is personally run by them.  It’s on the south fringe of Cranbrook, immediately adjacent to, and with rooms overlooking, a wildlife refuge lake.

We headed into the center of town where we usually go for dinner, the Hideout Restaurant and Brewhouse (it seems like it’s one of the go-to special restaurants in Cranbrook – its brewhouse half is definitely filled with locals).  It was dark and snowing heavily, but that didn’t discourage the Christmas-time ice climber from climbing the town’s 4 story clock tower.

We were wondering if with the fresh snow we should stay in Cranbrook for additional day.

Timing is everything in winter, and its important to be flexible with your plans and to avoid the worst storms, taking advantage of lulls between them. … Before going to bed, and again when we got up, we did the most essential thing during a winter trip … we got on the computer and checked both the weather report and the road reports.
Both highway 3 to the east through Crowsnest Pass and highway 93 north through Kootenay National Park were open and in “good winter driving conditions”.  But.  The areas around Crowsnest Pass were being hit by 100 km winds (a not-infrequent occurrence).  An easy decision ... we’d take the other way: highways 95 & 93 through the higher, more snowy Kootenay National Park.

We purposely left a little late for the road conditions to improve and drove through Cranbrook it its northern edge where we stopped at the place we always have breakfast, the ABC Country Restaurant.  Although TripAdvisor reviews for it are mediocre, we’ve always enjoyed breakfast there.

17 km north of Cranbrook we drove past Fort Steele Heritage Town (http://www.fortsteele.ca/), another place around Cranbrook that remains a place we should stop at some time.  For 127 km north of there the highway follows the broad Kootenay Valley, hemmed in by by rugged mountains, past the resort of Fairmont Hot Springs, to Radium Hot Springs. (There are lots of hot springs in the area, both in public natural settings and in well-tended resorts.)  Radium Hot Springs lies just east of the town along highway 93 - http://www.hotsprings.ca/radium-hot-springs – when not pressed for time it's great warming in the expansive outdoors spring-fed pool while watching snowflakes falling through its steam.

As usual, just south the town of Radium Hot Springs, we started looking for the big horn sheep that inhabit the area. (A youtube video is here)  We didn’t see any until we got to the very center of town, where a big buck sauntered across the road right at the intersection of highways 95 and 93.  He ignored the traffic signal, but the drivers didn’t ignore him.

We filled up with gas - the next services were 135 km away.  And we bought another bottle of window washing fluid ... in snow country other vehicles kick up a surprising amount of  a mix of snow, sand, and mud ... the last thing you want is to be driving behind (or passing) an 18 wheeler with a windshield that you can't see out of. 

Highway 93 through Kootenay National Park (See link here)  is frequently interesting, both for the scenic views and the wildlife.  Unfortunately, on this trip it was snowing and the clouds had the view socked-in.

One summer just east of town we came across a portable readerboard warning “Grizzlies ahead – do not stop”.  Several kilometers further, at a viewpoint, we came across an assortment of cars stopped, so of course, we stopped too … all were watching a female grizzly with 2 cubs only a couple of hundred feet away.  It could have been an extremely dangerous situation;  no one was venturing beyond a foot or two from their open car doors … risky if the bear attacked.  If you’re out hiking and a grizzly charges, you’re screwed; they can run 30 to 35 miles an hour. (Watch youtube video here)

Last winter we were driving along highway 93 westbound on the inevitable “compact snow and ice” in a line of 4wd pickups and SUV’s.  Most probably had full-on winter tires with better traction than my semi-old mud & snow tires.  They were driving a bit faster than I was comfortable with, but I was keeping up with them.  I’m not sure why.  A moment of inattention?  A mixture of my foot increasing or decreasing throttle combined with a moment of the tires slipping on ice?  Our rear end started trying to get ahead of our front end and our momentum was towards a snow bank.  I was surprised that my wife just very calmly said “oh no.” Somehow, when we were about 45 degrees to the road, I was able to steer (actually, oversteer) the front end the opposite direction, keeping ahead of the rear end.  We fishtailed the other direction.  A few fishtails in opposite directions gradually decreased until we were recovered straight again.  45 or so years ago when in my 20’s, I’d played with friends doing doughnuts and practicing skidding in a snowy parking lot.  Had that helped?

Eventually we got through the pass and onto the Trans Canada freeway between Lake Louise and Banff.  It was barely snowing there, but the road was still covered by wisps of dry blowing snow.  Although there were 2  lanes going in our direction, as usual in bad weather, the traffic was mostly flowing as one lane with the outside portion of both lanes slippery and only partially clear.

The arched bridges in this photo are animal bridges, built as a landscaped and planted way to allow animals to cross the freeway within Banff National Park.  It’s safer for both animals and drivers, and helps animals maintain their essential migrations.  Washington State Department of Transportation is currently installing a similar crossing on I-90 in Snoqualmie Pass.

After leaving Banff  the highway quickly leaves the Rockies and enters what Canadians call "The Prairies" - the vast area extending eastward from the Rockies and their foothills through Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Manitoba.

In the foothills looking west to the Rockies during last year's trip

The radio was describing the phenomenal amount of crashes Calgary had experienced the previous day during a heavy snowstorm.  But by the time we went through Calgary the main roads and freeways (many named "Trails" in Calgary) were well plowed and sanded and fortunately, traffic was lighter than usual.


East and north of Calgary it's grain, cattle, and oil producing country. 

The prairies are sparsely populated, with groups of planted trees flagging the location of the scattered farm houses.  Winds tend to blow the snow from the fields and roads until the wind hits an obstacle, where it deposits deeper drifts.

At one farm some of their straw rolls and straw bales had been fork-lifted into place to create a Christmas teddy bear.  Since rolls tend to be 4 to 5 feet in diameter and can weigh 500 to 1,500 pounds depending on its contents, and the smaller of the rectangular bales can be 36 " x 14" x 18", I'd guess that the bear was about 12 feet high.

The Christmas week in Red Deer was cold, varying between 0 F (minus 17C) high to minus 27 F (minus 32C) low.  But it was relatively dry, with only periodic snowfall.

We kept watching the weather report to time our drive back .... we left a day or two before the next storm was to hit.

Little wind was predicted, so we returned to Seattle via our favorite route: Alberta Highway 22 (the Cowboy Trail) and Highway 3 through the Crowsnest Pass.

To See Snow Country in Winter


A quintessential Canadian experience is to visit in wintertime (but be prepared for cold and snow). The way to get up close and personal with it is by driving ... BUT ... unless you are experienced and competent at driving in snow, and unless the vehicle is properly equipped for snow, for the safety of yourself and others who you may skid into, DON'T DO IT.  Other ways of seeing Snow Country exist.

For the intrepid who are willing to put up with the discomfort of a long bus journey, there are Greyhound busses (infrequent and subject to disruption during winter).

A much more comfortable trip is by train, although part of the trip will be overnight. Via Rail Canada operates The Canadian between Vancouver, Jasper, Edmonton, and Toronto, but only twice a week during winter. (2018 schedule here)  Amtrak operates The Empire Builder between Seattle, Montana, and Chicago daily (Its 2018 schedule here). Unfortunately the luxury train-cruise, The Rocky Mountaineer, from Vancouver to Banff and Calgary doesn't operate in winter.

One of the best ways is to fly to any of the many ski resorts - most have an airport nearby and various shuttles to the resort. Some of the larger resorts have more than enough activities and things to do to keep even non-skiers interested and busy for days. (Notably: fly into Vancouver and take frequent bus shuttles to Whistler, or into Calgary and take frequent bus shuttles to Banff and Lake Louise, or fly into Kalispell and take shuttles to Whitefish and Glacier National Park.)

One of the most quintessential Canadian winter experiences is to take the Sundog Shuttle along the Icefields Parkway near the crest of the Rockies between Jasper and Lake Louise/Banff. (See their website here)  As always in the mountains, you are at the mercy of the weather. It can be cloudy and/or snowing so that you can't see much of the scenery, and sometimes the road is closed by storms or avalanches. But if you luck out you'll get an experience you'd usually only get in places like Switzerland.

Update Feb. 5, 2018: Don't take driving in winter conditions lightly, and don't push or overestimate your and your tires' abilities. Within the last week or so there have been several deadly crashes on BC roads on "compact snow and ice": http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/hwy-3-closed-1.4518447 and  http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/coquihalla-highway-reopens-northbound-after-tour-bus-crash-1.4519359

Update Feb. 14, 2018:  Unusual things can occur in winter, such as rescuing a moose stuck upside down in snow. See the CBC story here

Update Feb. 25, 2018: More of the reasons to be respectful of winter driving: 2 dozen people were injured in a crash between 2 buses, 2 semi-trailer trucks, and two other passenger vehicles on the Coquihalla on the main route from Vancouver BC to Alberta: See news story here




Tuesday, December 19, 2017

30 Days Down Under - Part 8 - Auckland

Our Introduction to Auckland


The two hour flight from Queenstown to Auckland went by too quickly ... we spent the time with our seatmate, a young guy from Belgium, showing each other photos of his two week adventures on the south part of the South Island and some of the highlights of our trip.  We put our phones away, said our goodbyes, and made our way to our B&B near Mount Eden in Auckland.

The summit of Auckland's highest point, Mt. Eden, was about 1.7 miles from our bed and breakfast so we wandered over and traipsed up to see its view of Auckland - and its volcanic crater (Te Ipu-a-Mataaho - “The Bowl of Mataaho”). It's a simple bowl covered by grass, a part of which is seen here from a high point on its rim.



We're from the Pacific Northwest, so are used to volcanoes. Oregon has about 19, the State of Washington about 10 ... many of them are high, snow covered and glaciated peaks. In the state of Washington four of them are considered amongst the potentially most dangerous in the US, with one, Mt. Rainier near Seattle, in the Decade List - considered amongst the 17 potentially most destructive volcanoes in the world. (See comments about Washington volcanoes here)

Auckland dwarfs the US Pacific Northwest (in numbers, not at all in height). Auckland has between 49 and 53 volcanoes in its immediate area!!! Whereas in the northwest many are spectacular - high glaciated peaks, the ones around Auckland are much more mundane - many are barely noticeable and many have been quarried into oblivion.  One of the differences between the two areas: in the Northwest the most likely next eruptions will come from one of the existing peaks likely after warning by rumbling quake series, whereas in Auckland the most likely next  eruptions will come from a new location without  much warning   See about Auckland volcanoes here

One day we spent many hours in the Auckland War Memorial Museum - a bit of a misnomer ... it's a great collection of Maori, cultural, and natural  history, amongst other things. And it has a series of exhibits on volcanism, earthquakes, and the pacific rim ... wow, I had known the area of New Zealand was very active, but had not understood how very geologically active it was. A good article on Auckland's volcanoes is by the Ministry of Civil Defence here.

Amidst the displays was a section describing the volcanic (and earthquake) risk in Auckland and the rest of New Zealand. It also described the extensive planning that the government of New Zealand has instituted and the insurance for both earthquake and volcanoes that the government provides.  It puts to shame Seattle's lack of planning, and the paucity of reasonably affordable disaster insurance available in the US. Imagine: a nation that plans ahead of time to take care of its populace! New Zealand.

Click on any photo in the blog to enlarge it























Maori


It was the Maori and Pacific Islanders exhibits at the museum that attracted us the most.

Here's a model in the museum picturing a prototypical Maori Pa.  The Maori were competitive and warlike, with tribes fighting tribes and building pa's - fortified settlements for protection.  Mt. Eden in present-day Auckland was once a terraced and fortified pa.

The Maori were quite the opposite of the aboriginals in the Australian outback who were peaceable.

Perhaps when people are faced with a harsh environment in which survival is difficult, they are more humane and understanding of others' needs to endure and survive, than when they are in a fortunate environment that is plentiful, where they can afford the luxury of competition and greed.

Maybe that's why many people undergoing hardship tend to be so willing to help their neighbors and others.

For the most successful of the Maori's they could afford large storehouses like the one (from a fairly late vintage) in the museum.

Te Ara is an excellent site for New Zealand's history, culture, and politics including that of the Maori's, at https://teara.govt.nz/en You could (should) get lost for months exploring it in much more depth than I could ever manage.


Maori masks, carved in wood or soapstone, were used to honor the dead; they reproduced the ta moko - the markings - that had adorned the ancestors.

For a fascinating read see the story of Whakairo - Maori carving here.

And for an even more fascinating read, see the story of Ta Moko, Maori "tattooing" here. The word "tattooing" is a bit of a misnomer. The technique used was not at all like a modern day tattoo, nor did it feel as gentle as tattooing when it was applied.  The grooves were chiseled into the skin using chisels producing deep incisions in the skin rather than the pinpricks of modern-day tattoos.  I wonder how popular tattoos would be today if the same methods were used.

If (when?) I ever get a tattoo I'd pick a Maori design, at least as close to one as Maori traditions allow. But I certainly would not want it done the Maori way.




Other fascinating articles about Maori culture are about Maori kites here (yes, they flew kites), and their religion here, and what some Victorians would prudishly call their morals here (the latter being very apropos to same sex marriage that the people of Australia just voted 61.6% to 38.4% to allow.)



The museum also contains exhibits of polynesia and the Pacific Islands, to which New Zealand is bound both geographically, historically, and culturally.

New Zealand's population as of 2013 was 74% European, 14.9% Maori, 11.8% Asian, and 7.4% Pacific Islanders. (per Wikipedia)

And with that, we're off to an island.







Train to Waiheke Island



Early one morning it took us only a little over 10 minutes to walk from our B&B in the Mount Eden neighborhood, past Eden Park (Auckland's major stadium where the All Blacks play - that rugby team is New Zealand's pride - their stuff is sold everywhere in NZ, just simply everywhere, you can't escape it) to the nearby Kingsland rail station.  There are convenient, new, clean, fast trains roughly every 20 to 30 minutes to Britomart, the major downtown rail station at the harbor.

Like in Sydney, a massive rail terminal and pedestrian precinct was under construction along the harbour.  Somehow we found our way through the construction (the wayfinding sucked in comparison to Sydney) to the old but classic brick Ferry Terminal building.

From there we caught Fuller's ferry for its 40 minute trip to Waiheke Island. It gave us a good view of downtown Auckland and its ferry terminal - a scaled down version of Sydney's Circular Quay.

(map from Open Street Map under its open license)


















Our destination was to visit a close friend who lives on the far east side of Waiheke Island in her family's home, which the family had first built in about 1900.  At that time it was exceedingly remote - the only way to the home was by boat or horseback (or trekking) from the western end of the island .


Waiheke Island is undergoing a quick change - our journey the length of the island was a journey through that change. The ferry docks near the western end of the island.  That end seems a bit like Sausalito or Tiburon on the north shore of San Francisco bay - manicured, pleasant, with any property likely costing a fortune. Taking the road eastward one passes a mix of exurban sprawl - remaining older homes and stores, many seeming from the 50's and 60's when lots of young people were living cheap away from the city, amidst many new and obviously expensive houses and condos.

As the road proceeds west it becomes a bit more rural, with several wineries set amongst their vineyards - a favorite Auckland destination for a day of sipping wine. Eventually the main road comes to Onetangi Beach. From there smaller roads continue east to a mix of parks with popular day hikes and various rural properties, both old and new.

Throughout the island there are frequent views over the multi-fingered coastline and its  inlets and bays.


The view from our friend's yard's gate. The house was down a path about 50 yards from the end of her shared rough drive, which required a 4 wheel drive steeply wind its way up to the road.





Friday, December 8, 2017

30 Days Down Under - Part 7 - Queenstown

Flying to Queenstown

Image from AJ Hackett Bungy Queenstown website
In Sydney's airport we breezed through Australia's exit controls, a mirror image of their entrance controls: an automated passport reader that tracked who we were and verified that their visa was in order. Then we stepped to an automated camera that verified that our faces matched our passport, and we were through.

Simple, fast, efficient ... regulating both entrance and exit.

We were soon flying our way to New Zealand for 3 1/2 days in Queenstown.   (Our flight wasn't tethered like in the adjacent Hackett bungy ad.)

Mid October is early spring in Queenstown. We knew we were pushing the weather, relying on luck; it can be dicey that time of year.  The highest probability for the entire year for rain in Queenstown is on October 14.  We would arrive October 15!

According to Weather Spark (my favorite weather site when seeking to easily see average weather patterns - they have lots of easy-to-read graphs for each of the major elements of weather, showing not just the month like most sites, but the days within each month.  https://weatherspark.com/): For the days we'd be there in mid October the average high temperature is about 55 F, 51% of the days are mostly cloudy or worse, 46% of the days have rain, and it's usually windy.

Queenstown is known as an active outdoor place; most of our plans revolved around that. And we were planning, amongst other things, to do a boat trip in Milford Sound where it rains 61% of the time in October (see here )

As the plane approached the mountains surrounding Queenstown we looked out at the threatening weather.  At Queenstown you get up-close-and-friendly with the mountains real fast; the landing approach for the plane was down a narrow valley, mountaintops above us with their flanks pressing close on each side.



Arriving

After we unpacked, when we walked into town and along Lake Wakatipu's beach, we were pleasantly surprised. Being from Seattle the weather seemed quite passable.

There were still lots of clouds but some sunny breaks too. It was windy with quite a chop on the lake - even some whitecaps, but we (and some of the people on the lake's beach) were warm in our jackets - some seemed not to need them. And best of all, no rain seemed to threaten.


During our walk the Lady of the Lake greeted us.  She was a beaut!

A working steam-powered steamship, the TTS (twin screw steamer) Earnslaw had been contracted in 1910 to be built in Dunedin NZ.  When completed she was dismantled and shipped by rail to Kingston, one of the other towns on Lake Wakatipu, and reassembled, beginning service in 1912.

Originally serving, along with other boats, as the sole means of transportation between communities on the lake, she now ran several times daily serving tourists. We passed it up; we were more interested in other things ... we'd save such things for when we were older and less active.


When planning this trip down under we had debated whether or not to come to Queenstown, or skip it in order to spend longer times at some of our other choices.

One of the delights of travelling is to experience alien environments ... a foreign culture with a different language ... or an environment not at all like home like the Australian outback and the red center, or the Daintree Rainforest, prehuman epochs old ... or best of all, to explore deeply into some specific thing that is a passion for you.

Queenstown, Fjordland, and their environs were none of that ... not alien at all.  Coming from the US/Canada Northwest, we are imbued with the fjords of the Salish Sea and inland passage; we have years of familiarity with playing in the mountains hiking, skiing, and when younger, roped scrambling across glaciers and to the summit of some of the northwest's glaciated peaks.  And I'd lived for several years in Whistler, with its mix of adrenalin junkies scraping by and its wealthy tourists, just like Queenstown. Did we really want to travel so far to see our own backyard?

Happily, we decided yes.  We have a passion for mountains. Though we would have neither time nor equipment with us for hiking some of the surrounding renowned multi-day treks, the next day resonated with our cores.

Milford Sound

With only one day to get to Milford Sound and back, the choice was to drive (too tiring), fly (too weather dependent), or take a bus. After researching the options, over a month ahead we reserved spots on the Milford Sound BBQ bus https://bbqbus.co.nz/.

It was a great choice - a small bus, a personable driver, and a limited amount of passengers; when we stopped at sights we didn't overwhelm the place like the (too many) large buses.  Our driver used his skill to time us to be at viewpoints between the huge buses.

Milford Sound is the destination that gets all of the accolades, but the drive to Milford Sound is equally spectacular.

It was a scenic drive along the shores of Lake Wakatipu looking across it at mountain peaks where spring snow lingered, then through a broad farming valley full of sheep (in New Zealand sheep outnumber people 7 to 1), and then upwards into the sharp, craggy, wet, glaciated mountains.


There was a coffee shop stop to grab a quick bite (our little group amidst throngs from the big buses) and many scenic stops enroute where we had a chance to take some short walks.  If we would have been 2 weeks later, when the BBQ bus returned to its summer schedule, we would have had a BBQ and picnic at one of the stops. But October was still their winter season - we had our BBQ on the boat on Milford Sound.

The first scenic stop was at Mirror Lakes, where the farming valley had changed to a sub-alpine valley and the mountains began to surround us.


Click on any picture in the blog to enlarge it



As we approached the road's summit the spindrift that the winds were blowing off of Mt. Tutoko, and the clearing skies that the winds were blowing in, held promise for the weather at Milford Sound.




Promise fulfilled.
When we got to Milford Sound the weather - and the surroundings - were spectacular; a mystical place.  Best of all: we had happened upon one of the very few sunny days in a year.

The Sound (actually, technically, it's a fjord) is surrounded by sheer rock walls off of which plunge waterfalls - too many to count. It's the sort of place where one would expect a mythical sorcerer's castle to perch high up on a ledge shrouded in mist and clouds.

One of the benefits of being on a small bus: we went on one of the smaller cruise boats on the sound.  Our boat's size enabled it to nose in under several waterfalls. The people standing out on the bow stumbled over the raised boat-door threshold and each other and to get inside, trying to avoid the fall's onslaught drenching where they had been standing and photographing ... I, with my iPhone's camera, scurried around to the protection of the outward side.


















Milford Sound opens onto the Tasman Sea near where the Southern Ocean and the Indian Ocean collide - where winds can hurl waves like earthquakes against New Zealand's cliffs.
But today it was serene. Today one could imagine a comfortable sail a little over 1,000 miles directly west to Tasmania, or by turning left, a little over 1,700 miles to the nearest coast of Antarctica. (measured off of Google Earth)





Queenstown

The next day was one of our down days. Because of the flying petri dish's respiratory thing we found we needed to relax between adventures, so we spent the day exploring the town.

Queenstown is, above all, an outdoors place.  An outdoor place both for young adrenalin junkies living on god-knows-what, sedate wealthy grandparents passively enjoying the scenery, and every life-style in between.

It's crowded with backpacker hostels and crowds of exuberant youths celebrating their adventures and preparing for the next. Coexisting, intermingled amongst them, are luxury resorts and condominiums - you can spend as much, and flaunt as much, as you want (The most exclusive places are in the countryside outside of town.). And there are kegs of restaurants and bars ... from relatively inexpensive (even those cost more than in many places) to extravagant ... lots of places where the entire human zoo meets and mingles, and lots of places where those on one end or another of the human spectrum would never be seen.

There are four major ski areas ("ski fields" in Kiwi parlance) surrounding Queenstown (five counting one that is further away) - the season had only recently wound down.  Dozens of stores had their ski season closeout sales on. Many displayed expensive ski clothes that no self-respecting skier could ever, or would want to, afford (even upscale boarder clothes? Things have certainly changed from the days that ski areas forbad those dangerous, grungy, and smelly boarders who slept through the winter in their tents, vans, or cars.)

It is a mecca for hiking ("tramping" in Kiwi parlance) and climbing, the jumping-off place for dozens of multi-days tramps and for dozens of short walks. And it's a mecca for kick-ass mountain biking - and for more leisurely biking to the nearby Gibbston Valley wine country. Outdoor stores abound for every price range.

And, of course, it's a mecca for bungy jumping. A. J. Hackett and Henry Van Asch got the idea from "land-diving" by natives in Vanuatu using vines. They, with a group of Kiwi scientists from the university, developed artificial bungy cords. In 1987 AJ jumped off the Eiffel Tower to demonstrate. (Hey guys! Look! Exciting stuff!) In 1988 they opened the world's first commercial bungy site here at Queenstown at Kawarau Bridge.  Now they have three sites in Queenstown plus other thrills, along with some competition. The bungy jump shown in the round picture at the start of this blog is from that small green platform shown in my picture immediately above. Want to jump tandem with a friend? Nude? You can arrange for that here.

Everyone should take the Skyline Gondola for its panoramic views of Queenstown and Lake Wakatipu (or to ride the luge, or to bungy, or to hike further up.)  While on top we talked with one of the gondola attendants,  a young guy from the UK in New Zealand on a gap year. He'd just that week arrived in Queenstown, temporarily living in a hostel until he could find a more permanent place to live ... gotten this job within days.

And there's every type of boating you can imagine, and some types that you probably can't imagine.
And there are plenty of waterfront promenades and walking paths, places to peaceably stroll while taking in the view.


And for those who feel the need, there's a place to privately regret yesterday's sins.




Bicycling

The next day we were up bright and early for a day of bicycling. We had arranged to rent bikes for a day from Queenstown Bike Tours - located in Arrowtown http://www.queenstownbiketours.co.nz/ to ride from Arrowtown into the wine country in Gibbston Valley.  It's not very far, only about 15 km (9 miles) to some of the wineries. Our mid-70's year old bodies are relatively fit and used to cycling so the ride was easy.

map from Queenstown Bike Tours website

The owner's wife picked us up in our place in Queenstown, then went to another hotel to pick up another biker. We waited. And waited. She phoned him, no answer. She went to the front desk and phoned a second time; he hurried out, apologizing. Then we went to pick up his buddy at another hotel, where we waited and waited again. At long last we drove the faster, back, way to Arrowtown

While they were getting other people set up we decided to walk around Arrowtown ... it's quite a tourist stop, an old preserved but still active town of wood storefronts dating from the gold rush period.  It was only passably interesting, like many of the old gold mining towns in the western US.

They had bikes picked out for us and ready to go ... nice Specialized mountain bikes.  My legs are slightly shorter in proportion to my torso than most, so the bike was just a small bit too tall for me. They were going to change it out for me but it was getting late and I wanted to get going.  It was fine, I just needed to treat the top tube with respect. They gave us maps and some explanation and we were off.




We rode alongside the Arrow River on gravel and compressed soil bike trails most of the way, except a couple of short segments on country roads. The trail crossed the river five times on suspension bridges.
We finally arrived at a sixth suspension bridge, the Kawarau Bridge over the Kawarau River where commercial bungy first started. We joined the many others watching.




















Bands to which the bungy rope is attached link the jumper's feet.  The attendants (here in black - securely tethered) help the jumper (here in red) shuffle their feet onto a small platform.  After the the jumper screws up their courage and jumps (regardless of whether they dive or  just jump, they end up head first when the rope goes taut) they spring and pendulum up and down.  After the elastic motion finally subsides attendants in a raft hold a long pole up for the jumper to grab to be pulled to the raft.

I badly broke both my tibia and fibula skiing a few years back, so am a bit cautious about stressing my legs.  But if it were before that I wonder if I would have jumped (nude?).  I would hope so.

We eventually rode on into the wine growing Gibbston Valley.  We rode on the trail above the river into the valley for a bit, then returned to the Gibbston Valley Winery, carefully closing the gate behind us.  The table cloths, menu, and price didn't quite match our bike-riding-intentions, so we walked across their courtyard to their Cheesery.  It was more informal there, and though it didn't seem to have as wide a choice of wines, we had an enjoyable lunch of various cheeses, crackers, bread, and wine.

By mid afternoon we phoned back to QT Tours to arrange for their pickup. The owner met us with his van and bike trailer back at the bungy bridge. I complemented him how good a condition he kept his bikes in. (Incidentally, for those of you who are U.S. cyclists, a word of warning lest you fly over your handlebars in a quick stop: in Australia and New Zealand it seems most bikes have the front brake's lever on the right handlebar.) He drove us back into Gibbston Valley to pick up a van-full of cyclists and bikes at various wineries and a tavern to return them to Arrowtown ... we were the only ones who continued back to Queenstown.

On the way back he told us about QT Bike's history ... although much of their business was from Queenstown (they once had a shop there) they loved the smaller town's laid-back atmosphere and more peaceful life, so he and his wife had elected to run their business in Arrowtown.

I commented to him how, on our trip to Milford Sound when driving past the farmland, and again in the countryside between Arrowtown and Gibbston when we had been biking, and especially now along the back road between Arrowtown and Queenstown, we had passed so many farms where the farmland, although delightfully pastoral, seemed incapable of supporting their farmhouses which were mansions.  He replied that the farms didn't support the mansions; it was the other way around. The super-wealthy from around the world were buying the farms as huge private compounds.

That evening we reluctantly packed, knowing that our next stop, Auckland, would be the end of our trip (It will be in the next part 8 of my blog.)

On the plane we were seated next to a young guy from Belgium. He had spent several weeks exploring the beaches and mountains of the South Island, variously sleeping in his rental car, in a tent, or in hostels. It must have seemed a magical world to him compared to his home in the low-lands of  Europe. We all showed each other our photos on our phones and talked about our trips ... the flight went by too quickly.

Random Musings - Boltholes

It's no wonder that New Zealand, with its unpopulated mix of pastoral expanses and sharp, craggy mountains shrouded by mist and clouds, is the filming location of so many movies like The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings trilogy, and The Chronicles of Narnia.

There is a long tradition in human history of mystical worlds both in the past and in the future ... of pastoral and friendly worlds threatened by destruction accompanied usually by darkness and smokestacks belching, and greediness and violence  ... foreboding castles high up on ledges shrouded in mist and clouds, ruling with an uncaring fist.  The tradition, so common amongst many cultures, speaks to responses deep in the human psyche about good and evil and the battle against greed.

That pastoral and other-worldly and exciting environment of New Zealand is one of the things that has attracted explorations by young backpackers and exuberant thrill seekers, and in their footsteps,  by the mass tourists like us. It has also attracted others.

In "part 6 - Hobart Tasmania" I mentioned that Hobart reminded me of Eugene Oregon in the 1960's and early 1970's: Lots of denim. Lots of wool. Lots of foul weather gear. Lots of art.  Lots of crafts. A place where many young people could attempt "getting back to the earth". Parts of New Zealand still has hints of the remnants of that.

New Zealand also reminds me of Whistler Canada in the 1970's and in the early 1980's: a place at that time with young people trying to be self-sufficient, surviving on scraps so that they could experience life amidst the magnificence and the challenges of our planet while escaping the pressures and smog of the cities.

But like the 1960's, 70's and 80's, those times are disappearing, or have disappeared, fast. Tasmania a bit, but more so Whistler Canada, and especially New Zealand are now attracting the very utmost wealthy in the world.

I mentioned in "part 6 - Hobart Tasmania" that in the 1830's and 1840's Port Arthur was a prison with walls, within a prison walled by dogs staked at Eaglehawk Neck, within the prison of Tasmania walled by water, within a prison of Australia walled by oceans. The end of the earth.

In the 2010's Australia, Tasmania and New Zealand seem more like castles, shrouded in mist, surrounded by  thousand-of-miles high walls of the oceans' water.  Throughout Australia and New Zealand we heard strong comments, and saw strong wording in the newspapers, about the amount of the world's super-wealthy buying large tracts as private compounds where they could enjoy clean air and clean water and an idyllic setting, but which could also serve as "boltholes" to where they could bolt if need be if the pitchforks rose up, or if the missiles flew - where they could bolt the doors shut.

"At the Republican party convention in Cleveland last July [2016], Trump donor Peter Thiel declared himself 'most of all, proud to be an American'. So it came as something of a surprise for New Zealanders to discover that the PayPal co-founder and Facebook board member had become an honorary Kiwi – joining a growing band of wealthy Americans seeking a haven from a possible global apocalypse.

"... By the time of his appearance at the Republican convention, Thiel had already bought 193 hectares of pristine South Island land using his rights as a Kiwi."


"News this week that Peter Thiel, co-founder of PayPal, was among 92 applicants secretly granted New Zealand citizenship outside normal procedures is focusing attention on the influx of wealthy migrants to the South Pacific nation. This follows an article in the New Yorker that pinpointed New Zealand as a favoured destination for rich 'survivalists' preparing for apocalypse."
From the article "Self-sufficient boltholes tempt global super-rich to New Zealand"
in  The Financial Times, Feb. 3, 2017

The article that spurred the above articles was in the New Yorker on January 30, 2017:  Doomsday Prep for the Super-Rich by Evan Osnos; it was succinctly summed up in its subtitle "Some of the wealthiest people in America—in Silicon Valley, New York, and beyond—are getting ready for the crackup of civilization.

There are so many quotes from that article that are worth pondering, but I'll mention one passage that stands out:

"By January, 2015, [Robert A. Johnson, formerly a hedge fund manager, now head of a think tank, the Institute for New Economic Thinking]  was sounding the alarm: the tensions produced by acute income inequality were becoming so pronounced that some of the world’s wealthiest people were taking steps to protect themselves. At the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, Johnson told the audience, “I know hedge-fund managers all over the world who are buying airstrips and farms in places like New Zealand because they think they need a getaway.

"Johnson wishes that the wealthy would adopt a greater “spirit of stewardship,” an openness to policy change that could include, for instance, a more aggressive tax on inheritance. “Twenty-five hedge-fund managers make more money than all of the kindergarten teachers in America combined,” he said. “Being one of those twenty-five doesn’t feel good. I think they’ve developed a heightened sensitivity.” The gap is widening further. In December, the National Bureau of Economic Research published a new analysis, by the economists Thomas Piketty, Emmanuel Saez, and Gabriel Zucman, which found that half of American adults have been “completely shut off from economic growth since the 1970s.” Approximately a hundred and seventeen million people earn, on average, the same income that they did in 1980, while the typical income for the top one per cent has nearly tripled. That gap is comparable to the gap between average incomes in the U.S. and the Democratic Republic of Congo, the authors wrote.

"Johnson said, 'If we had a more equal distribution of income, and much more money and energy going into public school systems, parks and recreation, the arts, and health care, it could take an awful lot of sting out of society. We’ve largely dismantled those things.' "

I remember growing up in small towns. The most wealthy and the poorest went to the same public schools. To me, it's not important that they were public schools.  The thing that was important is that we all went to the same schools.  As kids of course we all formed our cliques.  But we all knew each other.  We all talked and played together.  We all understood each other. Our community had a common bond. Nowadays private or charter schools are hailed by some as ways to improve education, and they may well improve parts of education.  But at immense costs.  They drain funds away from public school, but far worse, they divide us ... they divide our kids ... we don't get to know each other and empathize with each other ... the sense of community and the common good gets lost ... for generations.

It seems to me that at an increasing rate of speed modern medieval castles are being built on hilltops, complete with their own faithful churches and freedom for those within the walls, all protected within their high walls. From there, it's hard to see, or understand, or empathize with those who produce the food and repair the roofs and walls, the masses of serfs below.  It worries me.  Are we reverting to wild animals' survival of the fittest, with none of the  morality that differentiates us from wild animals?

But looking out on the spring fields of New Zealand, on its empty beaches, its persevering rocky headlands, and its soaring mountains - all of them similar to America's Pacific Northwest, I can't help but feel eventual hope. In The Lord of the Rings Frodo Baggins and his fellow Hobbits went through dark, dangerous, harrowing times, like those that periodically transpire throughout history. But the world survived its various dark ages and prospered. And Frodo Baggins and his fellow Hobbits survived and eventually triumphed over the Dark Lord Sauron.

I hope that my faith in humanity, and in democracy, is well-placed. And hopefully an impetuous and fearful hand doesn't push the button.

But enough of that. New Zealand is too much fun to be morose.  Next stop, Auckland. And then back to our comfortable home.