There's a whole lot of S*#% out there...

I'm getting tired of this S*#%. Everywhere I look nowadays its S*#%, S*#%, and more S*#%. And its not just in my neighborhood - there's S*#% from coast to coast. In my neck of the woods the  S*#% is really getting deep. I mean, you're starting to need a shovel to handle all the S*#% out there. How much more of this S*#% are we going to have to put up with? You just can't seem to get away from it. I close my eyes and open them and there it is - S*#% all over the place. I'd cuss at all this S*#% but it's already a four-letter word. 

What's a person to do? Even the newscasters are getting fed up with all the S*#% around us. Heck, it takes up most of the newscast. Enough already. I'm sick and tired of getting dumped on with all this S*#%. The S*#% so deep its going to give me a hernia. Thank God it's New Years. Maybe in 2023 we'll all have to deal with less S*#% than all the nasty 2022 S*#%.

I'm old enough that I've dealt with my share of S*#%. Starting at a young age I quickly realized that too much of anything isn't necessarily good and that's especially true when it comes to S*#%. You deal with a pile of S*#% and before you can say Gesundheit there's more where that came from. Make no mistake, even watered down all this S*#% still makes for a heck of a mess.

Here's my New Years Resolution: come 2023 I'm done with all this S*#%. I'm going to pack it in a box and send it to Florida where, like, they don't have enough S*#%. Maybe it'll help all the palm trees grow. I hear S*#% is as good as fertilizer and Heaven knows, Colorado has plenty to spare. Maybe I can market it on Amazon though shipping S*#% might be a problem. And here's the latest S*#% joke - whats the difference between Southwest Airlines and S*#%? .......S*#% is airborn. 

And if all this S*#% doesn't disappear come Springtime, come on by. My aim's improving and you might get clobbered up side the head with a big 'ole ball of S*#%. 

For those out there who might be offended with all this talk of S*#%, take my advice. Head for the Colorado High Country where they manufacture S*#% by the truckload, strap on your S*#% skis, mortgage your house for a ski ticket, and go make S*#% Angels in all this bleeping S*#%. Best hurry though, they're forecasting another S*#% storm come next week.

Happy S*#%-y New Year.

Of Merriness and Dainty Paws

 HO, HO, HO.  

O.K., that's the last time in this post I'll do my Santa impression. The LOML (Love of My Life) and I took a jaunt to Manitou Springs yesterday because the blizzard that's been socking the rest of the country missed us in Denver completely, it was a beautiful and sunny December day, and because, well, we really enjoy the little town of Manitou Springs ("Oh Little town of Manitou Springs..." -nah, doesn't have the same ring to it). Mind you, a nice day in December - at least this one - is still pretty dern cold. Add in the wind and you can bet your booties (more on booties later) that when we stopped in Palmer Lake to give the pups a nature break we did not embrace the season with a leisurely stroll around said lake. And God love the wind-blown ice fisherman sitting out in the middle of the pond (he wasn't HO, HO, HO'ing either).

HO, HO, HO.

We could have taken the Interstate and gotten to Manitou Springs minutes earlier but what the hay, I'm retired, the wife's retired, and the back road from Sedalia south on State Highway 105 is one of our favorite strips of pavement anywhere in the good 'ole U.S. of A. We've biked  this route too many times to count on the now-defunct Elephant Rock ride and whether you're on a bike or snuggled up in a warm car it takes you through some beautiful countryside out in the you know, country. Out in the country is getting harder and harder to find in my neck of the woods (or more accurately my neck of the prairie) and as we rolled through the still quaint town of Palmer Lake we had only to look around at all the new homes being built to sense that this much-loved drive's days are numbered.

Speaking of numbered days, its the 351th day of the year as I write this. Only 14 rotations of our big globe left in 2022. And what a year its been. Of course, we say that about every year as we bid it adieu. Some years we add "good riddance", other years we'll fondly miss, though those have been as scarce as finding real countryside recently. Speaking of countryside, Highway 105 rolls by some spectacular vistas, some

natural, some man-made. We had to stop and take pictures of the Santa haybales and the red Christmas truck, both of which would brighten even the Grinch's day.

South of Palmer Lake its back onto I-25, that wonderful conveyor belt of humanity creeping along at 15 mph that stretches from Wyoming (and beyond) down to New Mexico and climes not featuring below zero wind chill. Colorado Springs, which is on the way to Manitou Springs, now brags of a rush hour to rival Denver's and our timing was good enough that we were able to partake. HO... nope, not going to do it. Anyway, we eventually arrived in Manitou Springs which is nestled at the base of Pikes Peak. In fact, its from here that you can catch the Broadmoor Manitou & Pikes Peak Railway that will whisk you to the 14,115 ft. summit which as I write this is a balmy 9.8 degrees (Fahrenheit for my Celcius friends in the rest of the world). And yes, the train runs year round but for our trip on this day we had lower, much lower, aspirations.

Merry Whatever...

Manitou Springs is a tourist mecca in warmer weather and as such has joined the growing list of communities that have discovered that visitors will gladly (some less gladly than others) pay for parking. Gotta say, these new parking kiosks do make it far easier to fork over $10 for five hours than the old coin-operated ones that people hated so much. And they even remind you via text when your time is about to expire and I believe you can even add more time without making the long walk back to your vehicle though I did not avail myself of this wonderful convenience on this trip. 

Having worked up an appetite, what with all the driving and freezing, the LOML and I went in search of sustenance that would have to sustain us for the upcoming shopping extravaganza that I knew awaited us. If you are a burger afficionado and have been to Manitou Springs you may have eaten at the Border Burger Bar  which features a seemingly endless array of - wait for it - burgers that are really yummy (I could have gone with delicious but yummy better fits). I had a veggie burger covered in green chile and aioli sauce and gluten free bun with some of the best sweet potato fries anywhere while my LOML indulged in the Alaskan Salmon burger which strangely features a Norwegian salmon fillet but is delicious (yummy) nonetheless. It was all good enough that I could have taken pictures but I was really busy, like, eating.

With tummies full it was time to explore the wonderful world of unique retail that is Manitou Springs. Don't bring your Kohls Cash and their isn't a Target or Walmart within spitting distance but rest assured your money is perfectly good here. I know because the LOML put it to the test almost everywhere in this small town (which all of a sudden wasn't seeming to be so small). But one of the stores offered fudge so it was all good. 

Mr. Bentley sans boots and snow

Our two pups got in the act as well and particularly liked Gigi's Animal Lovers Gift Shop (I'd link it but couldn't find that they have an actual website (!really?) though they get 4 1/2 Stars on Yelp). It was in this particular establishment that our booty tale continues. Our pups are Siberian (or as we like to say - Suburban) Huskies who give the LOML a run for her money in my heart. One is named Yukon and the other is Mr. Bentley (why there is a Mr. in there is a whole 'nother blog) and both compete for the MSCOTFOTP Trophy (Most Spoiled Canine On The Face Of The Planet). They came into our hearts as rescue pups about eight or nine years ago and have been stealing the show ever since. 

Anywho... (as one of my former coworkers used to say), Mr. Bentley loves his walks and as a card-carrying Husky he dearly loves the snow. Only problem is he gets ice balls in his paws which really cramp his style. Gigi's has a doggy boot selection to rival Boot Barn so a good chunk of my five-hour parking allotment was spent with a very helpful clerk trying on every type of doggie boot known to dogkind. Small to Extra-large, in every conceivable color, dog boots are now a 'Thing' which is good because I didn't want to have made the three hour round trip from home for nothing. Fortunately Mr. B found a pair that tickled his fancy so the LOML happily handed over the rest of Her/She/Our money and we were merrily on our way. Mind you, it hasn't actually snowed in my neck of the prairie in more than a month, but better to be prepared. I guess.

After all, 'tis the season to share glad tidings - comfort and joy and all that - so I'll wrap up with wishing you Happy Holidays and Merry Whatever (hey, I'm woke enough to let you fill in the blank). On the 359th day of 2022 me and mine will be celebrating the big 'C' but as they say, whatever trims your particular tree is fine by me and I hope it finds you and yours safe and happy. I'll leave you with a short Holiday video of another shopping excursion the LOML and I had taken recently to the equally wonderful retail destination of Golden, Colorado. Best of all, though this was a shopping excursion, there's not a shop to be seen in the video. Though there was fudge. HO, HO...

On to Barbados

The reason the Royal Clipper was crossing the mighty Atlantic this trip was to get the ship to the Caribbean in time for the winter cruising season. Next year in late Spring she'll head the other way back to Europe for their tourist season. From the Portuguese island of Madeira, where we had visited the beautiful port town of Funchal, it was a ten day crossing to reach the island of Barbados. That's a long time at sea without a stop but the time passed quickly and one morning we woke to see land off to our right, or starboard, side. Life aboard ship for those ten days was a wonderful experience and I can honestly say we never once got bored or tired of looking out on the endless ocean. The whole way across we didn't see

Vessel Finder shows the trans-Atlantic
traffic flowing across the sea

another ship and perhaps more telling, I never once saw a jet or contrail overhead. I did see a lot of flying fish gliding over the waves but very few birds. There is a free site called Vessel Finder that allows you to track vessels around the globe so I know a couple of other vessels were ahead of, as well as behind, the Royal Clipper as we made our way across the wide Atlantic but all we saw were rolling waves. Other cruise lines routinely send their ships back and forth across the oceans based on the cruising season in different locales

but sailing across on a five-masted sailing ship under full sail was an amazing experience and to anyone who has the slightest interest in sailing or sailing ships I'd highly recommend this trip. 

The Barbados sunset rivaled
those we had seen at sea

Once reaching Barbados we opted to spend a couple of extra days sampling what Barbados has to offer. We had been to Barbados once before on a cruise but spent our excursion time in a submarine rather than on land so most of what we saw this trip was new for us. We stayed at Club Barbados which is a lovely resort that had apparently recently reopened after some much needed maintenance and modernization. While the facilities were very nice the staff, especially in the restaurant and front desk, seemed quite put out to actually serve their customers and based on that I would unfortunately not recommend it if you head to Barbados. The good news is that there are plenty of other resort options available on this beautiful West Indies island. By contrast, the attention and care of the officers and crew aboard the Royal Clipper gives luxury a whole new meaning so perhaps they had spoiled us.

Here's the video capturing our trip aboard the lovely lady. I'll forever fondly remember her dancing over the waves awash in canvas on a sun-dappled sea. And to Captain Sergey Utitsyn and all the crew, thank you, and may the winds always be from astern. 

The Officers and crew of the
Royal Clipper

Shipboard life on the Royal Clipper

just some of the sails aboard
Royal Clipper

Since the Royal Clipper is, after all, a sailing ship, crew and passengers alike were looking forward to catching the east to west prevailing trade winds to grab hold of our topgallants and topsails, jibs and staysails, mizzensails and royals and drive us across the ocean swells. 42 sails and 54,000 square feet of canvas when fully decked out but for the first couple of days from Madeira the winds did not quite cooperate. A low pressure system out of the Bay of Biscay far to our north brought westerly winds almost directly on our nose preventing us from hoisting any real canvas. So motoring it was to be, cruising along at 10 knots covering about 250 miles a day and heading slightly south of west (around 220-240 degrees). The swells pushed south

Looking forward at the bowsprit
at sunset

from the Biscay low came from the north/northeast catching the Royal Clipper from the starboard stern causing us to pick up the rollicking motion that had tagged along since leaving Lisbon. Fortunately, most of the passengers seemed to have overcome their initial battle with ‘La Mal de Mer’ (seasickness) and were better able to accommodate the whims of the sea. Mind you, you still had to watch your step and balance when walking the decks but that was part of the allure of being on a sailing ship.

As we made our way farther south the weather began to warm up nicely to the point of bordering on hot. A rhythm developed aboard ship as passengers fell into some amount of routine that made the hours at sea pass. Given that the ship is only 442 feet in length they pack a fair amount of activities between stem and stern. Early riser? Continental breakfast starts at 0630. Want some morning exercise?

Exercise classes, for those so inclined,
help melt the calories from all the
sumptuous culinary offerings

Stretching is at 0830 followed by dance aerobics in the Tropical Bar. Meanwhile, regular ‘full’ breakfast is being served in the dining room. After sampling the delicious culinary offerings most passengers head topsides to snag a deck chair and relax for a while (until lunch!) reading and dozing while gazing up at the masts making lazy circles among the puffy white clouds overhead. Lunch offers more delicious fare but perhaps its best to not go overboard as Zumba is at 1530 before classes in navigation and knot-tying. For those seeking refreshment of the liquid kind the Tropical Bar on the aft deck lives up to its name complete with umbrella drinks and live music. Snacks of course are also provided and lest you spoil your appetite for dinner there’s the requisite stroll to the bridge and bow to view the stunning sunsets that can only be seen at sea from the deck of a pitching ship. 

dinner is served...

Dinner aboard the Royal Clipper is a four or five-course affair and the desserts are to-die-for if you’re not too worried about gaining some inches. Most of the Clipper crowd did not seem to have calorie counting as one of their primary pastimes. Not to worry though, as after-dinner dancing is yet ahead and the gym and massage rooms are open until late in the evening. A nightly movie, stargazing on the upper deck, and midnight snacks finish off what can be as busy or as relaxing a day as one wishes. 

One other activity that folks have been waiting for, but has thus far been cancelled due to the motion of the ship, is the chance to climb the rat lines up the main mast to the first (lower) crows nest located approximately 90 feet above the deck. My better half is anxious to give it a go (or maybe just anxious) so we’re hoping the sea will calm down in the next day or so so she can get her chance. Gazing up at the swaying masts (there are five - fore-mast, main mast, middle mast, mizzenmast mast, and last but not least - though shorter than all the

view from the bowsprit net back
at the Royal Clipper

others- the jigger mast) I’m only glad we won’t be climbing up to the dizzying heights at their tops though the crew does get that privilege to set and repair sails when needed. There’s also a bowsprit up front to which are attached the jib sails that also supports rope netting that passengers can climb into and gaze down at the azure blue sea passing beneath them. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Madames et Monsieurs, good morning aboard the Royal Clipper. It’s a beautiful day full of shipboard activities. The Captain and crew wish you to have a pleasant day.” That’s how every morning began, with an announcement from the bridge. On the schedule for today:

0634 Sunrise (and yes, lots of folks got up to see it)

0800 Morning Gymnastics with Borja

0900 Walk a Mile

0930 Mast Climbing

1030 Celestial Navigation without GPS

1115 Power Walk with Abdel 

1130 Card Playing in the Library

1200 Position and Weather Announcement from the Bridge

1330 Play Chess with Benjo

ONE pastry chef turned out all the desserts,
cakes, and pastries. Yum is an
understatement

1430 Story Time with Captain Sergey 

1500 Deck Golf with the Sports Team

1530 Zumba with Abdel

1630 Engine Room Tour

1700 Afternoon Melodies in the Tropical Bar

1715 Daily Quiz Time

1800 Traditional Salve Regina 

1900 Piano Melodies

2130 After Dinner Dancing

2200 Karaoke Night and Disco Dancing

2300 Star Gazing with 2nd Officer Maya

Some of these offerings change every day, but this gives a good idea of a typical day at sea.

And lest we forget, meal times as follows:

0630 Continental Breakfast

0800 Breakfast Buffet

1200 Luncheon Buffet/Pasta & Salad Bar

1700 Afternoon Snack

1752 Sunset

1930 Dinner is Served

2345 Midnight Snack

That’s a lot to cram into 24 hours, or rather 23 as we turned the clock back about every other day as we crossed time zones heading West. Of course, a fair number of passengers simply awoke, had breakfast, then headed for the deck chairs by the pool to enjoy quiet time until the next meal. My better half opted for busier options with the only rest coming as we gratefully fell into bed to be rocked to sleep by the rhythm of the waves.

NEXT DAY...

With sails hoisted, its
time to climb the mast

About 0930 this morning they were able to raise the sails as we had finally picked up the trade winds blowing from the stern. So it was off with the engines and all hands on deck (or at least all passengers) to witness the flutter and pop of the massive sails straining against the wind pulling us through the cobalt waters of the Atlantic. Today was also the day we reached the halfway point between Portugal and Barbados. The only sign of this waypoint were the flying fish skipping off the waves as if to congratulate us on making it this far.

With the sails out in their full glory and the seas calm enough with the swell coming from behind, it was time to climb the main mast to the lookout perched just above the mainsail at about 80 feet off the deck. A hardy bunch of passengers, including yours truly, lined up for the honor of hoisting ourselves up the rope rungs of the rat lines through the little opening in the lookout from where we could gaze down at our less-brave (though probably wiser) fellow passengers who were distinctly beginning to look like ants scurrying around on the decks below. Don’t know if it was coincidence, but at the same time I reached the lookout I could gaze down on the foredeck where the crew was having an Abandon Ship drill complete with fully inflated life raft. Hmmm, I’m going up and they’re preparing to go down. Apparently I didn’t get that message in a bottle.

the crew made mast climbing look easy...
"Look Ma, no hands!"

Still, it was pretty cool to climb out from the ship railing over the surging waves rolling by along the hull of the Royal Clipper and hoist one’s self up what suddenly was starting to look like a very, very tall mast. Fortunately, we were only allowed to the first lookout level. Looking upwards from there one could only imagine what it must be like to climb to the very top of the mast past another 4 large sails billowing and snapping in the breeze (two topsails and two topgallants). Going up was not so bad as you were

up, or down? we go...

very focused on the next rung (strand of precariously tied rope) above you. Going the other direction however brought to mind what my beloved wife reminds me every time we hike a mountain: it’s often tougher going down than going up. I quickly learned that was equally true in the fine art of mast climbing, or at least mast descending, as going down you were looking straight down trying to make sure your foot didn’t miss the next strand of rope that was stopping you from taking the quick way back to the deck. Looking down gave you the opportunity to contemplate the faces of all those ant-like creatures staring up at you from far, far below. Fun stuff. 

and this was the easy part... next came the math

Safely back on the closest thing to terra firma for a thousand miles, it was then time to find out a little more about Celestial Navigation which involves taking sun and star sights using a sextant and remembering why you hated trigonometry so much in High School. The chances of me determining with any accuracy (give or take a thousand miles) where in the middle of this ocean the Royal Clipper actually was resembled the odds of me winning the Colorado Lottery when I don’t even buy a ticket. I mean, I'm still finding my way around the ship, let alone this giant puddle called the Atlantic. Thank God (and Garmin) for GPS otherwise I’d be sailing round and round in circles until next hurricane season. Modern electronics now make navigating a sailing vessel like the one we were on almost as easy as telling Google “take me to Walmart!” And out here I don’t even have to wait in line wondering why the twenty other lanes are all closed. Still, in the hands of an expert the sextant is remarkably accurate and apparently some of the crew continue to routinely practice this almost-lost art in case those fancy modern electronics go on the fritz (there's no calling on Geek Squad for a mid-Atlantic house, or in this case - ship, call).

another day at sea comes to a close

Funchal a site for sore eyes

The Royal Clipper docks at Funchal, Madeira

We are being told that of the roughly 220 passengers who are on board for this crossing about 147 are returning passengers. That to me is a staggeringly high return rate and if true it speaks to the level of service and luxury provided by the good ship and crew of the Royal Clipper. 2/3’s of the passengers are Europeans (mainly Germans followed by English with Americans a distant third) on, as they say, holiday. The crew is primarily Philippino, Indian, and Indonesian, the cruise director is Lithuanian and the bridge crew (Captain, Chief Officer, etc.) are a mix so it’s an eclectic bunch all coming together to set sail across the roughly 2,800 miles between Madeira and the New World. Many of the passengers who have sailed aboard one of the Star Clipper ships (of which there are three) indicate they wouldn’t be caught dead on one of the behemoth cruise ships that seem to

Dawn saw us approach the
Madeira Archipelago

be the norm in today’s ‘bigger is better’ world. “Way too many people”, they say and from that perspective they have a point. Still, now having done both I can’t say I’m willing to give up on the ‘big boats’ in lieu of the Clipper’s smaller, more intimate footprint. As nice as the Royal Clipper is, it’s size limits it from some of the amenities one takes for granted on a ‘regular’ cruise ship such as extravagant evening shows, more eating and pool options, a more modern fitness center and spa (though the massage area of the Royal Clipper seemed to be doing a steady trade), and just simply more things to do - diversions if you please - to while away the hours at sea. Still, for what we wanted from this voyage - the sailing experience - the Royal Clipper delivers. Many aboard profess that its the sailing experience that keeps them coming back time and time again (one venerable lady on board is on her 22nd trip aboard the Royal Clipper) and if there is any sailing enthusiast in you at all this is, at a minimum, a trip of a lifetime if not necessarily something to be repeated year after year. 

We arrived in Madeira at around 11:00 a.m. local time. The Port of Funchal is a beautiful way to be introduced to this Portuguese discovered and governed island. Madeira is a volcanic island rising out of the sea and on our approach the high peaks were shrouded in cloud and mist allowing the sun beams to poke through and dance their light on the town as we approached. The town reminded me of the pictures you see of the Greek isles in that many of the houses are colorfully painted with red roofs as the houses climb up the verdant, but steep slopes. I will say this, when the Royal Clipper comes into port she does make a grand entrance. There were three massive cruise ships already docked when we came in and their rails were all lined with passengers watching this magnificent 5 masted schooner arrive. It was like being at a concert with all the camera flashes blinking as we sailed by. 

The waterfront of Funchal is a stroller’s delight. Like some other ports around the world its customary for vessels to paint their names and pictures on the walls of the port to celebrate their arrival and right off the boat it was

The botanical gardens featured flowers
from around the world

fun to see all the ships that had preceded us. Madeira is far enough south that the climate is delightful at this time of year though not tropical like some Caribbean islands and even the rain showers we had in the afternoon felt cooling rather than chilling. Funchal is a holiday destination for many Europeans and the harbor-front promenade hosted a wide variety of spoken languages and cultures. They say America is a melting pot but in the U.S. of A the expectation seems to be that once you arrive you should as quickly as possible assimilate and ‘become’ American but in both Lisbon and Funchal the mix of people from all over truly seemed to be celebrated and not simply tolerated. Perhaps its the fact that tourism dominates the economy that makes for such tolerance but I doubt it. The Madeirans seemed genuinely welcoming to all who come for a visit to their island home.

Our two hour leisurely stroll along the waterfront was then followed by a more formal, guided excursion that took us up the ‘Cable Car’ (Gondola) to a church high up the mountain slope offering stunning views of the town, the harbor, and the sea beyond. From there we went to the Botanical Gardens where flowers and plants from around the world were on display, many still in full bloom given the year-round temperate climate and plenty of moisture. That’s something we don’t really have in our home of Colorado. Sure, we have botanical gardens complete with climate controlled habitats but the combination of beautiful flowers from around the world growing out in the fresh air set against such a stunning backdrop makes Madeira worthy of a visit. The guide did a wonderful job of identifying all the different species but for this simple-minded American lad the beauty of nature on display did all the talking that was needed. 

The Royal Clipper left port at around 5 in the afternoon. We were the last ‘cruise’ ship out of the harbor, the three others having preceded us. The harbor tug gave three long blasts of the horn which we returned followed by one short blast. There were several racing kayaks skipping around the harbor like water bugs and the skies blessed us with a beautiful rainbow above the town as we made our way out to the open ocean. Our next stop: Barbados, some 2,800 miles away with naught but wind and waves between. The Azores are hundreds of miles to our north and the Canary Islands about the same to the south. As we entered the ocean proper we had dolphins dancing off our port side as if to say “Bon Voyage, safe travels...We would not see land until reaching Barbados, ten days away.

On to Marrakech

thank goodness the
Moroccans were nice
enough to have some
bilingual signs

The guide aboard our excursion bus was dutifully concerned with the welfare of his female passengers and for the better part of the first hour (it was a three hour trip - though only a distance of 95 miles - from Safi to Marrakech) he kept an eye out for a place that might be suitable for the ladies to attend to their natural needs. He was not so much concerned with us gentlemen as we could, in his words, just attend to our business along the side of the bus! There were very few gas stations offering toilet facilities that were actually open along our route. Fortunately, between Safi and Marrakech there was one gas station that he found that offered the ladies the chance to use the facilities which according to my wife was the standard squat toilet over a hole in the floor. Equality of the sexes is alive and well in Moroccan bathrooms as the ladies facility (there was only one) was exactly the same as that for the gentlemen. Toilet paper was not an option but my wife had come prepared with her Walmart special edition Charmin that she had lugged over from the States and she was able to supply the needs of her fellow female compatriots with their allotted two squares. 

the ladies room was clean but not
a sign of toilet paper to be seen

Then it was on to Marrakech which blends traces of the modern with lots of snapshots of the old (very old).The outskirts feature new modern construction of apartments though many appear to still be unlived  in. I asked our tour guide what were the major employers and he described teachers as a prime driver of the economy. Apparently teaching is a very sought after career field in Morocco and teachers earn around $800 a month and those new apartments we were driving by sell for around $25,000. According to the guide, if two teachers marry they can then just about afford to purchase one (apparently there’s not a lot of renting going on). The minimum wage by law is approximately $300/month. Motorcycles and gas powered motorbikes (no, not e-bikes) seem to be the most common form of transit, unless you’re still depending on your mule or donkey to get you from here to there and along the highway there were plenty of folks - men, women, and children - hoofing it 

on their own two feet. Once in Marrakech our tour took us to the old town (the Medina) where traditional souks (markets) fill the very narrow streets. The Medina dates to around 1122 which is when  its 19 kilometers of pink walls were built to enclose the Citadel. As little as a hundred years ago the entire city of Marrakech resided within these walls. Morocco is famous for its leather goods and silversmithing among other things and the stalls were filled to the

the maze-like alley souks were fascinating

brim with handcrafted goods that appear to still be made locally. Some of the merchants can be aggressive but the prices are quite affordable especially if you are willing to take the time to haggle. From the narrow streets and their souks our tour took us to the larger market square that turned out to be quite a disappointment.

the open air market seemed contrived
for the tourists

Where in the alleyway souks the merchandise seemed to be authentic, in the larger square the merchandise smacked of being made specifically for tourists and seemed cheaply made and mass produced. However, the larger square did feature the time honored art of snake charming and it was intriguing to watch the cobras, some of which were very large, swaying slowly back and forth to the flute music. The Egyptian Cobra, also known as an asp, is indeed native to the hot, arid regions of Morocco and if you take it upon yourself to go hiking it would be extremely prudent to watch your step!

the fine art of snake charming is
alive and well in Marrakech

We also had the chance to tour a former Prime Minister’s palace (the Bahia Palace) where he shared the accommodations with his four wives and then a harem on top of that. How he ever had time to run the country is beyond me, but he was apparently able to keep both his constituents and female companions satisfied. Then we had lunch at the Dar Essalam restaurant where the 1956 Alfred Hitchcock movie “The Man Who Knew Too Much” was filmed starring James Stewart and Doris Day. The film won the Academy Award for Best Song  -"Que Sera, Sera (Whatever will be , will be)" which was one of my mother's favorite tunes. She never made it to Marrakech but she did make it to Tangier in northern Morocco across from Gibraltar. and she really would have enjoyed lunch. After lunch we were treated to some traditional Moroccan music as well as Raqs al Shemadan dancing complete with flaming candlelabra perched atop the dancer’s head. I doubt any of our group could truly appreciate the nuances and finer points of the dance, but still the dancer was good enough to mesmerize the twenty or so of us as we relaxed post-lunch over sweet Moroccan mint tea.

lunch is served...

My wife wanted to ride a camel (I had the chance to do this a long, long time ago as a child in the city of Tangier to the north) and we saw camels and camel rides available on our drive into town but unfortunately time ran out on us and before we knew it we were heading back to Safi and our temporary home aboard the Royal Clipper. Next up was the Portuguese island of Madeira prior to our ten day jaunt across the Atlantic to Barbados.

the finer art of
Morrocan dance is
really alive and
well...

It was roughly a two day sail to Madeira and once again the Atlantic ocean swells let us know who was really in charge. Folks who have sailed the Royal Clipper and this route before promise us that once we turn west the prevailing trade winds will dominate and help smooth the ride. Not sure if I believe them but we’ll assume positive intent and hope for the best!

my better half desperately wanted to bring some
Morrocan spices home but getting them
through U.S. customs would have
been problematic at best

Setting Sail

Lisbon has a very nice Cruise terminal. In fact, most of the waterfront along the Tagus River has been redeveloped and features a beautiful promenade walkway that seemingly goes on for miles. You can walk, bike, rent scooters or just sit and watch people go by. The cruise terminal had three or four massive cruise ships docked and our driver from the hotel thought we meant to go to the regular cruise terminal. I finally had to have him Google a picture of the Royal Clipper before he understood we were not leaving on a regular cruise ship. For about an hour he was actually lost in his own hometown and had to make some calls to find the address of where we were catching the Royal Clipper. What’s travel without some hiccups? Fortunately my better half had spotted our ship the night before from one of the hop on-hop off tour buses so she knew what to look for and eventually we got our driver to the right spot by keeping an eye out for five very tall masts. All was well and we got to see parts of Lisbon not seen by the average tourist. And our driver learned something new about his city.

On our flights from Denver to Philadelphia and then on to Lisboa we had been the exception in that we were wearing COVID masks when most of the folks around us were not.We probably wouldn’t have worn them either save for the fact that we would be getting COVID tests at the port prior to being allowed on the Royal Clipper (plus you had to have proof of all five vaccinations). Flunking the COVID test meant having flown a long, long way for nothing so it had been strongly recommended to wear masks up to the point of setting sail. Don’t think cruise ships taking off from American shores are still being this careful or rigid about testing and vaccination, but still, we could appreciate the effort as the Royal Clipper is far from your normal cruise ship gargantuan. That said, my wife and I had worked darn hard to avoid having someone stick a swab way, way, way up our nostrils and it was about as unpleasant an experience as I had anticipated. As one of my friends would say: “Good times!” Not.

Fortunately there were no hiccups with the COVID test (though one unfortunate couple did test positive and were denied boarding) and we finally were able to stroll up the gangway to see our home for the next 16 days. Our luggage was already in our cabin so we were free to wander around and start to get our bearings That’s nautical lingo for knowing where the heck you are - as in port from starboard, bow from stern, and where’s the dining room?

So here’s the thing. We knew the Royal Clipper was a large sailing vessel, but at 179 feet in length she would still be dwarfed by most of today’s modern cruise ships. The average length of today’s mega-sized cruise ship is 1,000 feet, or three football fields. No big deal, as up and down motion from front to back is something we had experienced even on the Royal Clippers’ larger cousins in stormy seas. What we had not thought through (imagine that), and would come to bite us later that evening, was the beam measurement - how wide the ship is across. The Royal Clipper has a beam of 53 feet which sounds reasonable to the uninitiated but compared to the very wide cruise ships you may be more familiar with  53 feet is like a log compared to the width of a football field. Today’s larger ‘floating resorts’ are more than twice as wide. You’re thinking, “So what?” Well, the so what is that at only 53 feet in width the Royal Clipper not only moves up and down fore and aft, she also rolls from side to side far more than any ship I had ever been on. And the forecast for leaving Lisbon that night was for some stormy seas which meant that we were about to experience about as close to an ocean roller coaster as you can get. When dinner was served later that evening you had to hold on to the tables, which fortunately were bolted to the deck, for fear of literally falling out of your chair (several guests learned this lesson the hard way) and it was rough enough that stacks of white china dishes were sent crashing and bottles of wine tumbling as the boat pitched up and down, left and right in a dizzying (and nauseating) number of combinations. Just what landlubbers eating their first meal at sea needed. But at least I now knew where the dining room was.

The cabins on the Royal Clipper are surprisingly roomy and the first night continued with the rock and roll of the sea. The cabin steward had put up what they call leeboards to prevent guests from being pitched out of the bed with the roll of the ship. Maybe seatbelts (bedbelts?) would have been more appropriate.  Scopamine, a motion sickness medication, was perhaps even more popular on board that first night than red wine and you could see many passengers sporting the scopamine patch behind their ears for several days. I’ll admit to feeling slightly nauseous for a day or two myself but after several days and nights of constant swaying to and fro you do start to feel better which meant that it was time for our next port, Safi, Morocco where we could learn the pleasures of land sickness which is the opposite of sea sickness and means you continue to feel like your on board ship even when you’re rock solid on good old terra firma. Our first port of call was not supposed to be Safi but we had to skip our put in at Portimao, Portugal due to the rough seas and high swells. It was just too rough to get the ship into port. Which worked out for the best as the love of my life swore that if the seasickness didn’t subside she was heading home the very next place we touched land. 

Safi (pronounced by the locals as “Asfi”) is known as one of Morocco’s main fishing ports for the country’s sardine industry. Here we boarded buses and took a 2 1/2 hour bus trip inland to the city of Marrakech which sits at the crossroads of the ancient trading routes heading north from Southern Africa and west from the Middle East. Marrakech is a blend of third world meets 21st century and the streets are the first sign that you’re not in America, or most of Europe for that matter, anymore. Carts pulled by donkeys mixed with Mercedes Benz automobiles. Most of the population between Safi and Marakech appear to my western eyes living at just above the subsistence level. Morocco does seems forward thinking for an Islamic country in its cultural tolerance and the ladies (perhaps the best barometer of what’s going on anywhere) sported everything from the classical hijab to more western attire that wouldn’t raise an eyebrow on the streets of New York or Paris. And it was kinda nice to just be back on solid ground…

The Marrakech McDonalds welcomes you to town

Wherever I am…

 When my wife and I are lost in the Colorado High Country, she’ll inevitably ask me “Where the @#%$ are we?” Being the sensitive type, and picking up right away the loving tone of her question my rejoinder is always the same: “Wherever I am, that’s where I’m at.” She doesn’t appreciate my witty response as much as I do, but then, there’s no accounting for taste.

Storm clouds over the Atlantic
Made for a bumpy flight

So here I am. Waiting on my better half to get doodled up so we can head out on the town after our 24 hours of travel. Our flight over the Atlantic was bumpier than anticipated but we made it safe and sound. Tell you what - when they say people are traveling they aren’t kidding. From DIA in Denver, to Philadelphia International, to where we landed this morning, the airports and planes are packed with people. Planes are full, carry-on bags are needing to be checked, everything is rush, rush, rush at least until you wait twenty minutes on the tarmac waiting in line to take off or an extra half hour waiting for a gate to become available after your 6 1/4 hour flight. But hey, you’re jetting across 7 time zones so what difference does a little time spent cooling your jets (literally) matter?

Jet lag is a wonderful thing. We staggered off the final plane absolutely clueless as to what the local time was, though by propping our beady little eyes open we could make out that the sun was still up, the air was warm, and folks were speaking in a language totally indecipherable to us even though we had dutifully printed off the Travelers Top 20 Phrase to Know and made at least some effort at wondering how to actually pronounce things like “Onde esta a casa de Banho?” (“Where is the little boys room?) We did learn one thing for certain, and that is “Onde esta a casa de Banho?” might impress your friends with your mastery of a foreign language but it is of no help, and rather is a detriment, when going through customs.

Despite our language tomfoolery the folks of this beautiful place still allowed us to enter. And as they say in these here parts: “Bem vindo a Portugal!” Or more specifically “Bem vindo a Lisboa, Portugal!” Which was all the welcome we needed. Then it was off to the Hotel Portugal in the heart of Lisbon’s old city where we dropped our bags and promptly headed out to practice the fine art of getting lost in a foreign city. But no matter, I had an actual paper map. Only problem was the city planners in Lisboa seem slightly remiss in putting up street names on the, you know, streets. And lest we needed to be reminded, “Onde esta a casa de Banho?” was about as helpful when seeking meaningful directional advice as it had been at the airport. Man, I gotta stop learning foreign languages.

No doubt, Lisboa is a beautiful city of some 500,000 folks who all speak the same language (Portuguese) which I had so miserably failed to learn given the several hours of brain damage I had devoted to the effort. Fortunately, most of these nice people are more adept at being bilingual than I am, and what the heck, many of them actually speak better English than I do, what with using proper grammar and all. So apart from my stumbling and bumbling in not just one language but two, we eventually were able to communicate and identify exactly where “de Banho” was. And it only costs 1/2 a Euro once you find it!

One of the many beautiful squares
In Lisbon

Once the Banho search had been remedied we were able to do some real sightseeing. Lots of monuments, museums, churches, monasteries, statues, obelisks, castles, etc.Too many to name, too much history to absorb though much of the ‘old city’ really dates back to 1755 having been rebuilt at that point after suffering a major earthquake and tsunami that destroyed almost everything near the edge of the Tagus  river. Still, 1755 is far enough back to be pretty darn old to us newbie Americans (my home of Colorado didn’t even become a State until 1876). Suffice it to say, Lisbon offers a healthy sampling of everything Europe has to offer, and as I mentioned, the people really are very nice and friendly and welcoming.

The Royal Clipper all decked out

The real reason for our trip, however, has not much to do with Portugal’s capital. We’re hear to hop aboard a ship and go sailing with royalty. No, really. The ship we’re setting out on is named the Royal Clipper which is a steel-hulled, 5 masted, fully rigged tall ship. Refurbished in 2017, the Royal Clipper is 439 feet in length, has a beam of 54 feet, and weighs in at 5,000 tons. And the cabins have hair dryers which sealed the deal for the love of my life. This magnificent ship will be taking us back across the Atlantic at a far more sedate pace than the 600mph the Boeing 787 was doing way up at 41,000 feet. We’ll be making stops  in Portugal and Morocco before heading for the island of Barbados where, sadly, we’ll have to hop another plane to get back home to Denver. 

The Belem Castle guards the entrance
To the Tagus River

I don’t know about you, but as a boy I thrilled to stories like ‘Moby Dick’ and ‘Two Years Before the Mast’. And lets not forget classics like ‘Robinson Crusoe’, ‘Treasure Island’ and ‘The Long Way’. How many hours did I while away reading such yarns smelling the salt air and feeling the sea wind in my hair. Alas, much of my childhood was spent in landlocked Colorado and though I did learn the difference between a tack and a jibe, port from starboard, true blue-water sailing was just a tad out of reach. So when the chance to sail across the Atlantic on a ship such as the Royal Clipper became available I didn’t just jump, I leaped. I might be out of pocket for the next week or so after we leave port ion Lisbon. Not sure how good mid-Atlantic Wi-Fi might be, but I’ll blog as often as I’m able. So, come on aboard and let’s set sail! And no more foreign languages for now! I’ll be busy practicing my best pirate voice (“Aarghhh!”) and relearning how to tie a bowline hitch…

The Monument of the Discoveries
Celebrates Portugal’s rich
Heritage of maritime exploration

Where to...?

Where to next? The minute we arrive seems like we start asking that question. 

There's a whole lot of 'where to next'-ing going on right now. I'm not sure there are a commensurate number of answers which leads to some very uncertain times. From politics to sports, economics to employment, cultural fads to breaking news, looking for anything that's certain seems a lost cause. In surfing they refer to riding the wave which I guess is as good a metaphor for where we are as a nation and a world. The problem of course is that no one really knows what the wave is going to do. One of the gentlemen I worked with at my last employer, when asked how he was, would always respond with "Living the dream!" I always took that as a somewhat sarcastic response, but hey, if he's reading this blog, here's hoping that dream came true. 

I'm of an age where more often than not what's old is new again. So much of what is going on today isn't so much new as it simply hasn't been experienced before by younger generations. Whether they will truly learn any more from that experience than my generation did (or didn't depending on your point of view) is unknown but hope as they say springs eternal so I remain an optimist. I'm sure someone has observed that optimism is a wonderful thing, at least until confronted by reality. And reality today seems all about questioning whether or not anyone really knows what's going on. Thus the question: "Where to next?"

My personal optimism expresses itself in continuing to find beauty and wonder in the world around me. And that's what keeps me proverbially paddling back out into stormy seas to catch, and hopefully ride, that next wave. Fortunately I have a willing partner to join me on that wave wherever it may take us. Thanks to COVID, travel over the last couple of years has been challenging (I have a knack for understating the obvious) but now that Mr. Biden is telling us that "The pandemic is over" and most Americans are far more concerned with inflation than vaccination, my better half and I are expanding our wave riding to more distant shores. We're heading east to Latitude 38°43'0.01"N, 9°8'21.6"E Longitude to start our next adventure. I haven't been there since I was a child traveling with my folks and am curious to see what has changed and what has stayed the same. It's a beautiful place but on this trip its not so much the destination as what we'll be doing once we get there that I'm most excited about. Our return trip, at least for me, is the trip of a lifetime and something I've dreamed about since I was a young lad and first starting to read about such things. That long-ago dream never died and now I, like my work compatriot above, will be finally "Living the dream!" 

Meanwhile, it hasn't been too hard to find beauty of a natural kind in my neck of the woods (prairie?) given the kind of Fall we've been having in Colorado. Yesterday I had a chance to do some filming at South Valley Park, one of Jefferson County's open space areas which this time of year is ablaze with color set against the backdrop of spectacular rock formations. Here's the short video from that foray:

I hope your Fall allows you to find the beauty in your world. In uncertain times, the only thing I'm still sure of is that its there, if only we will look.

The future of LinkedIn... from the cheap seats

Trading in my cubicle for days on the road
was one of the happiest days of my life

I was listening to Marketplace on my local Public Radio station a couple of days ago and they ran an interesting segment between host Kai Ryssdal and New York Times reporter Lora Kelley on how LinkedIn users are sharing more and more personal stories. They pointed out that a platform originally designed to make business connections and help find jobs was now seeing an increasing number of users "open up their hearts and personal lives to their feeds." I've noticed that, and am also the first to admit that I share posts that traditionally wouldn't have fit the old LinkedIn mold. My posts tend to focus primarily on travel rather than what Marketplace referred to (somewhat condescendingly) as 'crying selfies' but truth be told I represent a hugely untapped portion of LinkedIn users that represents a golden opportunity should LinkedIn get the hint. 

I retired in 2016. I could have just walked away from LinkedIn at that point as I wasn't looking for a new job and already had a sizable network of business-related contacts. And I'm sure that's precisely what many retirees do. I didn't, because just because I had suddenly moved from workaholic to retireaholic didn't mean I no longer had anything to contribute and share with those I knew from my business life. LinkedIn, if you're listening, there's a huge untapped pool of knowledge, wisdom, insights, and experience that you're ignoring. If you could find a way to bring retirees back into the LinkedIn fold it would enhance the entire LinkedIn community. A retiree's thoughts and opinions are every bit as valid and bring with them the context of years of actual experience that others could well benefit from. Hmmm... Retireaholic... might just put that as my current position the next time LinkedIn prompts me...

I'm not suggesting that LinkedIn should turn into a professional Facebook look-a-like. Candidly I gave up on Facebook years ago even though I had been an early adopter in the early 2000's after recognizing it was likely to supplant the then-more-popular Myspace. It was probably shortly after joining Facebook that I also joined LinkedIn. Working in Human Resources it was a strategic tool for reaching out to potential candidates to introduce the company I worked for and what it had to offer. Most candidates knew next to nothing about the organization I represented, and even though most would never actually work for us, LinkedIn allowed us to get the word out about this great company. 

Let's face it - looking for a job is, for most of us, about as much fun as having a tooth pulled. Even for someone reliant on LinkedIn to do my job, I clearly recognized that LinkedIn straddled the borderline of - dare I say it - being boring. If you're not actively seeking employment, or conversely seeking candidates to fill a job, much of what was (and still is) posted could be fairly high on the Yawn meter. So I suggest that people posting a broader array of information is not a bad thing. Do the folks at LinkedIn need to continue to do content moderation? Absolutely. Yet to remain primarily a resume database ignores the platform's full potential. 

Me? I'll continue to post away though I promise to avoid the 'crying selfie'. If you like travel-related content tag along. If not, hey - that's fine too. In the words of author Karen White: "You ain't dead yet, so you ain't done." To all my fellow retirees, those are words to live by. Now if only LinkedIn is listening...