Heather Hamilton

Author: Heather Hamilton (Page 16 of 21)

Road Tripping on the US395

On 6th August 2018

The US 395 Highway is such an epic journey, that combination of mile upon mile of mountain panorama together with the excitement that all roads lead to Mammoth, gives this road sign a prime place on our showcase wall, jostling with all the brewery signs.

Friday

First stop after a Friday night pick up from work, was Alabama Hills (impossible to say without an affected US Deep South drawl). Contrary to my pronunciation, Alabama Hills is just past Lone Pine in the Sierra foothills, California. We arrived just as it was getting dark, but still managed to bag a prime boondocking spot (you really can’t go too far wrong here!) tucked into one of the many rock formations.

Saturday

No more mice incidents to report this time in Alabama Hills (the previous time we were here, we had a little visitor in the middle of the night). The next morning we continued our journey north to Convict Lake for a spot of competitive paddle-boarding vs trail running (see The Convict Lake ‘Top Gear’ Challenge). Then what better way to cool off than trying out the local public swimming pool. Far removed from the crowded claustrophobic indoor pool of years past (think kids screeching & hollering, dive-bombing & splashing, and grimy plasters floating past), this pool was in the glorious outdoors – no screaming kids and no plasters, just a serene mountain backdrop.

This has surely got to be one of the most picturesque swimming pools in California.

As we rocked up to our reserved spot in the Old Shady Rest campground in Mammoth, we were surprised that it seemed to be already occupied. I readied myself for a fight, how dare someone take our spot!?! Darren hastily reached for his phone to check the booking and swiftly realized we were actually booked in there for the following night. Ahem, ok, quiet exit, stage left.

Not a problem for the Basecamp, we had planned on boondocking for a night anyway (just not this night). We set our sights on the nearby area around Hot Creek Springs.

The thing about pulling a trailer is that you’re paranoid about turning down a narrow trail only to find that it’s a dead end, with no turning circle or means to get back out again. Luckily, a combination of prior research, google earth and sending me out to check any potential such offending trails did the trick, and we ended up in a perfect spot overlooking the steaming river below.

Sunday

An early start had us backtracking to Mammoth and heading up to the lakes above the town. Undeterred by his performance on the SUP yesterday, Darren was ready to take on a couple more lakes (Horseshoe Lake and Lake Mary). But before any paddle-boarding could be done, the damn thing needed pumping up. For some reason I’m still trying to come to terms with, we have a hand pump. (I’m trying to make Darren see sense and order one of those pumps you can plug into the car and let that do the hard work for you). Anyway, in the meantime, we’re stuck with the hand pump, and have come to some reluctant arrangement of my contributing 100 pumps to the proceedings. So no sneaking off for me to do my own thing – at least not until I’d done my duty.

98… 99… 100. Done!

I left Darren to his own devices on the paddle-board, and kitted up for a run. Four years earlier, we’d done a half marathon in Mammoth, which rolls gently downhill for the first 8 miles or so. Probably the prettiest race I’ve done, and I regretted not being able to stop for pictures along the way. This time, I didn’t have to run the full 13.1 miles and I could dilly dally to my heart’s content.

Lost in my own thoughts and the beauty of the scenery around me, I was jolted back to the present by a fisherman calling up to me from the bank below. “Did you see the bear?” I did a double-take, “Huh?” “The bear” he exclaimed “not just one but a mother and two cubs – just moments ago – they stole my fish! They must have gone right past you.” Man, it’s times like this I wish I were more observant. I was tempted to double back and try to find them, then thought better of it.

I was disappointed at missing such an awesome wildlife spotting opportunity, but fantastic scenery aside, there were two other great advantages to this run. 1 – Mammoth Brewing at the bottom of the hill. And 2 – a free shuttle bus to take me back up the hill : )

This time when we arrived at the Old Shady Rest campground, there was no one in our spot. Funny that. Out came the bikes for a mini brewery tour. Although Darren had other ideas and took the long way round (seemed a very long way round). Mammoth Brewing and Black Doubt Brewing done, it was back to the campsite for steak on the bar-b-q and a cozy campfire.

Monday

It was time to brave the cool clear waters of June Lake. The thing about this triathlon training lark is that you don’t just have to be able to swim, you have to be able to swim in open water. One of the drivers behind even contemplating attempting this was to feel out of my comfort zone. Well this is about as out of my comfort zone as it gets.

Even I had to admit that the water looked quite inviting – the sunlight was glinting off the surface and the water was so very clear you could see way all the way down. However, despite Darren’s earnest suggestions that it reminded him of the Caribbean, I was more skeptically reminded of the turquoise glacial waters of Lake Louise in Canada. Long story short, even wet-suited up, complete with booties and wetsuit hood, it took me a l—o—n—g time to get in the water.

Finally in, initial shock over as the water seeped into my wetsuit, and having taken the plunge to fully immerse my face, I started to swim. Slowly of course – I’m still very much a beginner, and don’t get too far without resorting to doggy paddle. But the exhilaration of seeing the mountain peaks every time I took a breath, combined with being able to see all around in the water – including spotting fish, just blew me away. Happy days!

De-wetsuited and dried off, next up was a bike ride. The so-called June Lake loop. 25 miles might not sound so far but that thin mountain air comes into play again, not to mention the steep terrain, the wind and the heat. The long slow crawl up the 395 nearly finished me off, don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see the Basecamp.

The campsite in June Lake was right on the edge of town, entailing a pleasant lakeside walk to June Lake Brewing to round off the required checklist of eastern Sierras breweries.

Tuesday

July 4^th falling on a Wednesday gave us a most welcome extra long weekend. Instead of having to head home, we continued north to Mono Lake for, you guessed it, another paddle-boarding session. After wearing myself out with my dutiful 100 pumps, I figured I’d done my exercise for the day, and opted for a leisurely walk by the shoreline.

It was like looking out onto a natural infinity pool stretching to the horizon, watching Darren navigate the strange tufa columns rising haphazardly from the opaque waters. According to Darren, it was like paddling on a different planet. One with water obviously.

Contemplating where to head to for the remainder of the day, the relentless heat got the better of us. After brunch, we pointed the Basecamp in the direction of Yosemite, and climbed up Tioga Pass to 10,000 feet to escape the blast furnace conditions we’d been experiencing. Even stopped in for a Mr Whippy (probably don’t call it that here but you know what I mean) at the sleepy town of Lee Vining along the way.

We got lucky with a gorgeous camping spot at Junction campground.

All that remained for our last night was to relax by the river with a beer. Out came the travel guidebooks, and maybe another beer or two. No point in dwelling on the return trip home when we could be planning Operation Next Road Trip!

The Convict Lake ‘Top Gear’ Challenge

By Heather Hamilton

On 6th August 2018

In Adventure

Have you ever seen Top Gear where they do ‘The Race’ thing? They pitch some super cool new car against… a skier coming down a mountain… or a racing pigeon, a skateboarder, or any other very random form of transport that is not a car. Point is, they hype up the drama with sweeping photo footage and sports commentary worthy of a 1966 world cup final. Both forms of transport have the same start and end point, although invariably and by design, they take a different route to get from A to B. It’s a full-on race to the finish line, and there’s generally a hair’s breadth between them.

Picture the scene: Convict Lake in the Eastern Sierras, July 2018. A perfect spot for us to recreate our very own Top Gear race.

The modes of transport: Darren on his SUP (Stand Up Paddleboard) taking the direct route across the water from the boat launch to the beach at the far side; me – on foot, trail running the lakeside path which meanders around the shoreline.

The tension was building as we readied ourselves, Darren blowing up his paddle board and assembling his gear. Me jogging around the car park, psyching myself up with some Rocky music. And we were off!

It soon became apparent that there’s an awful lot of planning in getting those Top Gear races so evenly matched. You might think that I had a distinct disadvantage tip toeing over the rocky terrain underfoot to try to avoid an ungainly face plant, and gasping at every breath due to the sparing oxygen levels at 8,000 feet altitude. However, the fishing boats on the lake threw a spanner in the works for Darren, on more than one occasion turning his beginner stance on the SUP into SDP instead (Sit Down Paddleboarding).

My other handicap was my Official Photographer duties. It was so damn photogenic, I had to keep stopping every two minutes to take a picture.

Despite all that, it would seem that running and SUPing are not so evenly matched – even a slow runner like me has a huge time advantage over a SUP. No reason not to bask in glory, I surmised. Meanwhile, Darren had the last laugh, as the winner had to buy the beer!

Welcome to AustinTexas Y’All

By Heather Hamilton

On 22nd April 2018

In Adventure

“Cheerios cereal, sir?” Darren did a double take – “I beg your pardon?” “Cheerios cereal or breakfast sandwich?” the flight attendant repeated. Welcome to First Class on Delta Airlines!

The idea to go to Austin, Texas started with the Air Miles equivalent of pin the tail on the donkey. Instead of closing your eyes and pointing your finger somewhere random on a map, it was more let’s see where we can use up some Virgin Atlantic miles. Preferably somewhere we haven’t been before, somewhere with decent weather in April, and that we don’t have to spend half the weekend getting there. Cue Texas. Y’all. On Delta. In first class.

So you may have grasped by now that being in the posh bit at the front of the plane is not quite the same flying US domestic as on a long haul international flight. We were tempted to call their bluff and actually order the Cheerios (surely they didn’t really serve Cheerios?) but hunger got the better of us and breakfast sandwich it was. Delta did however manage to redeem themselves slightly when they brought out the bubbly.

Touchdown in Austin Texas and the pilot mumbled something about it being a little colder than normal for this time of year. We had checked the weather the day before and it was a toasty 85 degrees – how bad can it be!? 43 degrees is how bad it can be! I repeat 43 degrees. That’s a measly 6 degrees centigrade. Beating a hasty retreat to the toilet, Darren changed out of his shorts into his jeans before we even left the airport. Never one to go anywhere without a fleece, I had luckily packed not just one but two fleeces. But woefully, no woolly hat.

You may have noticed that AustinTexas is like one word. That’s because they never just say Austin. Not ever. I don’t know how many other Austins there are in the world but if it’s the one in Texas you’re talking about, there will never ever be any doubt. AustinTexas is apparently the 11th largest city in the US y’all, (they say y’all like all the time too!) and with an influx of 200 people and 80 new cars on the road every day, one of the fastest growing. More to the point is that 6th street, which runs the length of the city, has more liquor licenses than anywhere else in the US. Yes, including The Strip in Vegas and Bourbon Street in New Orleans. Now that’s the kind of statistic we like 😉

What better way to get to know a new city than hiring a bike and cycling round some breweries. There’s a couple of things I like about cycling… the freedom of going at your own pace without having to drive or uber, especially where bike paths are abundant. And a nice large squishy seat always brings out a smile. What isn’t quite up there is cycling in the freezing cold with no gloves. Still, we persevered, each brewery becoming more and more attractive as an opportunity to thaw our numb fingers.

Seems like brewery hopping is the thing to do on a lazy Saturday afternoon, talk about busy. Not only the thing to do, but the cool, hip thing to do – by the time we reached our third brewery, we realized rather disconcertingly, that we were the oldest people in there.

Austin Texas also has a ‘Keep Austin Weird’ thing going on.

Another ‘must do’ in Texas is BBQ. Boy, do they know how to BBQ.

Huge fire pits adorned with hunks of meat oozing deliciousness, sausages galore, and baby back ribs smothered in sweet sticky bbq sauce. Not to mention the most amazing potato salad. At the most basic establishments, you don’t even get a plate. Just a white shiny placemat that you throw your meat on. Salt Lick BBQ felt like a true Texas BBQ experience and we rolled out stuffed and happy.

Texas even does wine. Who knew! About 300 wineries in the state apparently, a number of which are in ‘the hill country’, an area the size of Scotland to the south of AustinTexas. Our little trip to the hill country involved a minivan of like-minded friendly people, who got friendlier and more upbeat as the day went on. The last leg back to base involved passing round a bottle of red…

So would we recommend a stop in AustinTexas for Y’all – of course! We love a city that has a friendly vibe with good food and drink galore – in fact this is getting typed up from a bar on our next city tour ‘Portland Oregon’. We heard they have good beer here! Stay tuned.

On Top of the World (Along with Everyone Else!)

By Heather Hamilton

On 9th April 2018

In Basecamp

Surveying our surroundings for the night, we felt mightily pleased with ourselves. This is the kind of view you’d pay an arm and a leg for at a posh hotel. Instead, we were comfortably ensconced in our Basecamp, perched on a hilltop with breathtaking 360 degree views of the iconic rocks of Sedona.

When you bag such a perfect boondocking spot, you don’t expect to have it entirely to yourself. Indeed there were a couple of other RVs and one brave soul in a tent also camped out. But that’s ok – with friendly neighbours and plenty of space, we’re ok with sharing.

With trail runs/biking and hiking already under our belts for the day, we sat back and relaxed with our kindles (and maybe a beer or two), enjoying the peace and relative solitude.

And then this happened…

The pink jeep disgorged its hoard of vocal tourists, phones in hand, eager to swarm all over our personal paradise in their efforts to get the perfect picture. After much shrieking, whooping and hollering, they jumped back into the jeep and they were off. Breathing a sigh of relief, there was some eye rolling between us and the RV neighbours. With a resigned shrug, we were politely informed “That was nothin’. Just you wait until sunset”.

And so it was… for the next two hours, a steady stream of intrusion. The occasional sound of silence in between visitors was broken by the thrum of a distant engine and the telltale advancing cloud of dust. One of the cool things about the Basecamp is that we can see out, but people outside can’t see in. I took up residence by the window, like a meerkat on official watch duty and it became quite the entertainment for the afternoon.

As sunset approached, the party really got started. Prize for the loudest went to the tour group of quad bikes trying to out-rev each other as they jockeyed for position.

We ventured out to enjoy the last of the sun, bagging ourselves a prime spot perched on the back of the truck. By this time we were surrounded by maybe a dozen jeeps. The temperature plummeted and we responded with fleeces and woolly hats. Others responded by wrapping themselves in rugs. We glanced at each other, eyebrows raised – this merited a closer look. There was some murmuring and holding hands going on. Followed by what looked like sleep walking (think mummy impression, arms held aloft, eyes closed). Turns out they were here for the Sedona vortex (some hippy energy field thing). Pure class. And an unforeseen extra dimension to our evening’s entertainment.

And then… Boom. The sun was down and as quick as the circus had started, it was over. Like mice, they scurried back to their jeeps, leaving nothing behind but a fading trail of red lights heading into the darkness. And we were back to the cosy confines of the Basecamp. A home cooked pot of chilli. A bottle of red. And the wilderness.

Basecamp Bermuda Triangle

By Heather Hamilton

On 10th March 2018

In Basecamp

Given the size of the Basecamp, you’d think it would be pretty difficult to lose stuff. But lose stuff we do. All the time. It started with socks. Darren’s socks to be exact. Bit of background… you know how when you go into some people’s houses, you take your shoes off at the door. Well it’s like that in the Basecamp. And it goes without saying that when you’re camping, especially winter camping, you want to be cosy. So we have some very special fluffy, warm, snuggle up socks specifically for this purpose. The basic premise: you take your outside shoes and socks off. And you put your cosy socks on.

To be fair, I actually lost my cosy socks before even setting foot in the Basecamp. (The advantage of writing this a week later in Miami is that they’ve now turned up – in my laptop bag of all places – doubling up as flight socks!). So Darren was way ahead of me, quietly smug in his cosy socks as the overnight temperature plummeted. But in the morning it was a different story.

So the obvious place to put your ‘normal’ socks when you put your cosy socks on is in your shoes by the door. But no… that would be too obvious. Takes all the fun out of it. Instead, we have a prolonged ‘hunt’ in the morning for where Darren’s other socks went. After looking in all the obvious places, we were both in agreement that someone must have broken in in the night and stolen them. In desperation and with no easy sock alternatives available, he had to keep his cosy socks on instead. It was only after our second hike of the day that, feeling a tad warm, Darren peeled off his cosy socks… only to find the missing ‘stolen’ socks underneath. Yep, he’d been wearing them the entire time. Mystery solved.

And this brings me to the glasses. Not the wine/beer glasses, more the type that sit on top of your nose and enable you to see. Pretty difficult to lose, right? I mean, you take them off when you go to bed. You wake up in the morning and put them on. Easy peasy. Or not as the case may be.

There’s a saying that what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Not so where glasses are concerned. A week on and we’re still no wiser. So you know what it’s like, a few beers out on the town and you come ‘home’ (well the Basecamp feels like home and it IS so home!). You collapse into bed (and we had great forethought, we’d made the bed up before we even went out. Get that for organized). You wake up in the morning… and that bit where you reach for your glasses… doesn’t quite work out as planned. No glasses.

You accuse the other half. You feel around aimlessly. You shout and curse a bit. Eventually, you resort to the spare glasses so at least you can actively join in the search. Two hours later (I am serious here) of virtual solid searching, and still no glasses. I’d like to say that we found them later and they were in this really obvious place… But this is now a week on and um, still no glasses. It really is a mystery.

Moral of this story… when you’re traveling, you need to build in an extra 2 hours a day of time specifically just for ‘looking for stuff’.

Addendum: nearly 2 weeks on and nope, still not found the glasses. Maybe what happens in Vegas really DOES stay in Vegas!?

The Mighty (Cold!) Colorado River

By Heather Hamilton

On 10th March 2018

In Adventure

I’ve been told there’s no such thing as bad weather. Only bad clothes. Which brings me to my topic of the day: Kayaking in the Colorado river in winter. That was my brief. My response: waterproof trousers; windproof jacket on top of substantial North Face fleece; woolly hat; wetsuit diving gloves; wetsuit boots. Darren’s response: shorts and t-shirt. Maybe I over exaggerate, but not far off. I wouldn’t say he was blasé, more just underestimated the conditions.

As it was out of season and also not a weekend, we were lucky enough to have the launch site, right next to the Hoover Dam to ourselves. Spirits were high, bolstered by our early morning coffee, with a sense of anticipation and adventure.

We soon realized that being dropped off before 7am, when the sun has not yet peeked over the canyon walls is bordering on abuse. The damp cold settles into your bones and your extremities as your fingers gradually go numb. The icy water streaks down the paddle with every stroke, drip drip dripping on your legs like Chinese water torture. At least the water was calm, and we were paddling in the same direction as the current, so more a case of gritting your teeth (in a vague attempt to stop them chattering) and making the most of an ‘easy’ paddle to the first rest stop, thankfully in the sun!

From here, the Arizona hot springs were just a short walk upstream (as in walking up/in a stream). The only way to get to the hot springs is either this short hike from the river or a 6 mile round trip hike from the nearest road. Darren did his best to assure me we’d taken the easier option!

I have to say I was a little daunted when faced with a ladder. Not only did it have a waterfall running right through it, it was also rather steep and very slippery. But the hot springs were at the top of the ladder like a carrot on a stick. So up it I went. And oh, was it so worth it!

There’s something really quite liberating about getting your kit off in the great outdoors. Not to mention the most basic of pleasures of soaking in hot water, your body coming back to life as the heat of the water eases your muscles. We were careful not to snort any of the water up our noses (something to do with a flesh eating bacteria).

Back at the beach feeling refreshed and ready for our next paddle, we gazed on the mighty Colorado river in horror. Having dilly dallied a little too long at the hot springs, the wind was now whipping the river up into a frenzy. Nothing for it but to get stuck in. Our clothes had dried in the sun but didn’t stay that way for long. Darren rather ingeniously re-purposed a space blanket (one of those thin slivers of plastic silver sheeting that they give you at the end of a marathon) to cover his bare legs.

The rest of the day was spent alternating between paddling hard, battling with the wind and waves (yes, waves on a river!) and rest/snack stops sheltered by the high canyon walls to recover, stretch out and admire the scenery. One quite cool aspect of kayaking the Colorado is that the river runs along the state border, so depending on which side of the river you pull into, you’re either in Nevada or Arizona.

The final push to our pick-up point was particularly brutal, the forces of nature aligning to test our draining strength. I was exhausted but happy to have finally made it in one piece. That was a tough old 12 mile kayaking trip. But what better recovery… only an hour’s drive from there to a night out in Vegas! 🙂

Caviar in the Surf

By Heather Hamilton

On 22nd January 2018

In Cruise

When I first started working at Carnival UK in 2005, like many people I’d never set foot on a cruise ship before. Part of the initial training included showing new employees the marketing videos for various Carnival brands, one of which was their luxury cruise line, Seabourn. Over the years, I’ve observed the evolution of the industry, from traditional marketing methods to the rise of online booking and event ticketing platforms, transforming the way customers engage with cruise experiences.

My overarching memory from this ‘training’ is the sight of hunky waiters dressed in smart uniforms with shorts, wading through the surf on a pristine Caribbean beach, delivering champagne and caviar to happy, smiling cruise passengers. That seemed to me to be a long way from reality and a rather bizarre experience. On the other hand, it was right up my street and I vowed, there and then, that it was something I should aspire to.

Twelve years on (good things come to those who wait!) and I find myself still working for Carnival. And here we are, cruising in the Caribbean on a Seabourn ship. Fancy that. For sure, one of the must do’s has to be Caviar in the Surf!

We arrived on the rather exclusive Carambola beach on the island of St Kitts. We watched from the shore as the spectacle started with a speedboat leaving the ship (which was anchored in the bay), bouncing exuberantly over the waves, sirens blaring as it thundered towards us.

We had a front row seat/sun lounger but before long even that wasn’t enough, as we were eager to greet the arriving bounty. We strolled into the shallow turquoise waters, at which point I was slowed considerably, as my feet had to become acclimatized with the change in temperature. (Most people wouldn’t describe the Caribbean Sea as cold, but I’ve always been a bit special that way.)

The sound of Nicolas Feuillete champagne corks popping was barely to be heard over the crashing of the surf. My ears pricked up at the faint but irresistible sound, and it was enough to hasten my progress into the sea. Champagne erupted from the bottles and flowed freely into awaiting glasses (plastic glasses of course). In a rather enterprising Seabourn gesture, a couple of surf boards were used as serving platters, on top of which the caviar was being served with traditional accompaniments.

The waiters weren’t quite as hunky as the ones in my vague recollection from the video. But they were wading through the surf in their shorts and uniforms. The dream had become reality. Caviar in the Surf on Boxing Day? Yes please 🙂

How the Other Half Lives…

By Heather Hamilton

On 22nd January 2018

In Cruise

We knew that Seabourn was ‘the luxury brand’. We maybe weren’t fully au fait with exactly what that involved. In case you weren’t either, allow me to let you in on some of Seabourn’s moments…

– We must seriously stink. There can be no other reason for offering us so much soap. For in addition to the standard toiletries that you get in hotels far and wide (albeit this is top class Molton Brown stuff), we were treated to a range of soaps far beyond what you could possibly yearn for during a two week cruise. I sniffed them warily and chose the nicest smelling one, expecting the others to be removed for future offerings. Surprisingly enough, the ‘rejected’ soaps were also left in our cabin, should our preferences change over the next fortnight. Anyone for soap?

– The personal touch. On our very first morning at breakfast, we were greeted with a very friendly “Good morning Mr & Mrs Hamilton”. I responded with a brief but enthusiastic “Morning!” wondering how on earth the waitress knew who we were. Darren patiently explained this was the very same waitress who had served us the night before – I just didn’t recognize her because I didn’t remember her. Which leads me to my next point…

– Drinks included. Dangerous indeed, especially for The Hamiltons (it’s 5 o’clock somewhere…). At least this time around the bar bill won’t cost more than the cruise. Seriously though, the champagne is flowing, we’re running out of new cocktail options to try, and the acceptable time of day to start drinking seems to get earlier by the day. These guys take their cocktail mixing seriously too, some damn good cocktails.

– Red carpet treatment. Not just caviar and champagne wherever and whenever you want it, but a real red carpet. Rolled out for special events on the top deck, the Christmas day brunch, and even along the pier when you step ashore. They know how to make you feel like a film star! The smartly dressed waiters also had the ability to magically appear from nowhere as you were leaving the buffet, in order to… wait for it… carry your plate to the dining table for you. I really am not quite sure how I’ll cope back in the normal world!

– The food. Best food we’ve had on a cruise ship full stop. Mouthwatering juicy burgers grilled to order on deck (great for hangovers, along with that Bloody Mary!); fresh fish delicately complemented by fresh herbs (or deep fried in a light crispy beer batter with a nod to the Brits); an amazing beach bar-b-q with grilled lobster, oozing with butter and lemon juice; extravagant multi-course banquets for formal nights; an epicurean evening where they set up canapé stalls on deck, served by officers and crew; caviar coming out of your ears; oh, and tiny pain au chocolat and other pastries with coffee (if you need something to ‘put you on’ between meals). And then they throw in Thomas Keller – he of the French Laundry fame.

And would you believe it. Somehow, we seem to barely have a picture of any food we had onboard whatsoever?!? So here instead, is a picture of the yummy coconut custard tarts we made during our cookery day on St Lucia.

Christmas in the Caribbean

By Heather Hamilton

On 22nd January 2018

In Cruise

First of all, you have to suspend any traditional images of a white Christmas, snuggling up in front of a log fire while all around you excited children are opening presents. Christmas in the Caribbean defies all these traditions. No snow, no need for heating, and not many kids on a Seabourn ship. That being said, there was no shortage of festive cheer. They did a fantastic job onboard to make it feel special, both for Christmas and New Year, and the party atmosphere was a-kicking.

The ship was packed with oversized gingerbread houses – building the anticipation with a Christmas countdown in the ‘snow’, and tastefully decorated Christmas trees.

Christmas Eve brought not only a sing-along-a Christmas songs with the elves on the top deck but also a passenger tree decorating sesh. Many people also decorated their cabin doors. Some more than others…

Christmas Day was a sea day, with a special brunch held in the galley, a nice touch that enabled the passengers to see a little behind the scenes action.

After stuffing our faces, we found another way to make it seem more Christmassy. We set the temperature in our cabin down as low as it would go (yes really!), snuggled up under the duvet to watch The Best Ever Christmas movie (Love Actually), ordered room service Baileys, and tucked into our chocolate Santas 🙂

Operation Mouse

By Heather Hamilton

On 5th January 2018

In Basecamp

It was 2:30 in the morning when I first felt it. Something tickled my hand. I peered over at Darren in the darkness, wondering if he was feeling amorous. But no, dead to the world. I put it down to my creative imagination and dozed off.

Half an hour later something nuzzled into my hair and ran over my head. This time I was surely not mistaken. I sat bolt upright and announced to Darren: “We’ve got company!” Groggy from sleep, he stirred slowly and asked how sure I was. “Well… given that it’s got me twice now, pretty damn sure.” The only thing I wasn’t sure about was whether it was a small desert mouse or a large hairy spider.

Darren leapt into action and armed with a torch, he started poking around the deepest darkest corners of the Basecamp. There, under the bed, sat a cute iccle mouse, blinking innocently back up at him in the torchlight. Well it’s one thing to be sat around like butter wouldn’t melt, it’s something else if it takes a liking to chewing through wires. Not to mention that I didn’t relish the thought of it dancing on top of me as I slept.

And so began Operation Get the Mouse Out of the Basecamp.

Darren’s strategy: open the main Basecamp door and coax the mouse out. “Anything I can do to help?” I offered supportively. “Yes – open the door and tie it back”. I paused and thought about that for a moment. That would mean going outside into the freezing night, not a terribly attractive prospect. I snuggled further under the covers. “Erm, I meant anything I can do to help from here?” Darren muttered something under his breath and opened the door.

There was some scuffling, much crawling on all fours, and some darting around in true Tom and Jerry style. I’m pretty sure the mouse didn’t walk out the door, but it was nowhere to be seen. We were getting tired of the drawn out game of hide and seek, and concluded it must have gone out the same way it had got in.

No sign of him the next day either. Regardless, the morning was spent googling how to get rid of mice from an RV!

We unfortunately didn’t get a picture of our little furry friend. So here’s some pictures instead of a very photogenic Alabama Hills. Nestled in the foothills of the Sierras and basking in the shade of Mount Whitney, this is classic Western country. In recognition of that, the main road through Alabama Hills is called Movie Flat Road.