Brooks Blog
A personal account of the 35th. ‘Music at
Sea’
An Alaskan/Rocky
Mountains adventure onboard
“Celebrity
Mercury” and the “Rocky Mountaineer”.
June 20 – July 2 2010
Vancouver, Canada - Inside Passage
- Icy Straight Point, Alaska
Hubbard Glacier, Alaska - Juneau,
Alaska – Ketchikan, Alaska
Inside Passage - Vancouver, Canada
- Kamloops, Canada
Banff, Canada - Lake Louise,
Canada - Calgary, Canada
Arriving in Vancouver,
I expected to find a city still nursing a hospitality hangover from hosting
the winter Olympics. Instead, I encountered a welcoming, vibrant and courteous
community inhabiting a metropolis which is living proof that building construction
and nature can co-exist in perfect harmony. Despite enormous development,
Vancouver, its shores washed by the Pacific Ocean and its air filtered through
the Rocky Mountains, is no concrete jungle. This respect for the environment
is immediate on debarking the plane, for the traveller enters an airport terminal containing flowers, plants
and trees which add to the sense of tranquillity
pervading the building. This was one of the quietest terminals I have experienced
leading me to wonder whether the floors were covered with sound absorbant material. There was certainly none of the noisy
marble flooring so common in European airports.
If only more airports were like Vancouver! So stress free - even the officials were relaxed,
welcoming and seemingly unflappable!
I prefer being
driven to being the driver. The passenger has time to look around, enjoy the
scenery, and sometimes spot quirky street signs, shop names or even warning
notices which can be amusing in their imaginative attempts to catch the eye.
Examples from the past include a fish restaurant named ‘Chish
and Fips’ and a second-hand furniture shop called
‘Junk and Disorderly’. Earlier this year I drove past a sewage tanker sporting
the slogan ‘We’re number 1 in the number 2 business’.
“Oh, get a life” I hear
you murmur – but sitting in the back of taxis IS part of my life so don’t
begrudge me this harmless pastime! And
its not just confined to taxis. Last
year I happened on this in a Quebec restaurant:
Sometimes there’s
a weird syncronicity with these slogans. En route
to JFK, I passed a pottery shop named ‘Mud, Sweat and Tears’. Neat, but it
gets better. After take-off I opened
the inflight magazine at an article on mountain
cycling - but it was the heading, ‘Blood, Sweat and Gears’, which raised a
smile. My suggestion for the Wall Street
Journal’s next editorial is::
‘Fudge, Debt and Arrears’ – I bet they won’t!
Before leaving my Vancouver hotel
to board ‘Mercury’ I spoke directly with my wife Ann in London through an
excellent WiFi internet video link on my laptop. Wow! How things have changed since my first
Alaskan cruise 35 years ago! Then, ship-to-shore communication was a time
consuming nightmare. One went to the radio room (they’ve gone the way of the
Dodo!) and waited for the radio officer to have a free slot. If he was having
a bad day he’d tell you he was busy and to try again tomorrow! However, if
he was not having a bad day he would call the nearest shoreside
receiving station on his shortwave radio. Then,
(assuming the shoreside operator was not having
a bad day) the shoreside operator, through various
other land based operators would attempt to get your number to answer and
only then (and if) that connection was made would the ship’s radio room be
linked in with the call. That was the easy bit! This is where the stress really
kicked in for, in order for you to speak, it was necessary to press a button
on a microphone which was suspended on a long wire emanating from the ceiling.
The voice of the person you were speaking with was routed separately through
a loudspeaker on the wall. Unfortunately
only one person could speak at any one time so if you pressed the Speech button
whilst your party was speaking you cut them off! Timing was everything, and,
with the radio officer monitoring every word, privacy impossible.
Today we think nothing of taking
out a cellphone, pressing the speed dial and, bingo,
that’s it – we’re connected, and, with the exception of government
eavesdroppers, its private! Well, let me qualify that! I write that its private
but how many of us have been forced to listen in as somebody close by gabbles
at high volume into a cellphone, broadcasting intimate
secrets to all and sundry? Its
embarassing. We’ve all been through it. We’re not willing
eavesdroppers we simply have no choice. I
was placed in this position – along with approximately 20 fellow passengers
- on the Vancouver SkyTrain as a woman – seemingly
unaware of her captive audience – loudly dispensed intimate advice into the
mouthpiece of her cellphone, winding up the conversation
with ‘Now, don’t tell anyone I told you this’, at which my fellow travellers
burst into laughter and the red-faced caller exited at the next station!
Every cabin on Mercury has a television
displaying satellite news channels coming through 24/7. We would only have
dreamed of that thirty-five years ago as there were
no televisions onboard the ship! News junkies took their shortwave radios, antennae fully extended, and hung over the
rail at the back of the promenade deck, hoping to pick up a signal. Sometimes
they’d be lucky and, hidden amongst the crackles and whistles, would be the
dulcet tones of the BBC World Service. imparting more news and information in a 15 minute
bulletin than todays TV channels manage in an hour.
And how about
our attitude to the environment? Then we could happily sail up to the glacier in Glacier Bay, and
watch the calving. In fact, there were
times when the Captain would give a blast on the ship’s whistle to help the
ice on its way! Today the number of cruise ships entering the bay is strictly
limited – and no Captain would give the order to sound the ship’s whistle
unless he had a desire to rest awhile inside a penitentiary! To think that
we considered it routine to dispatch a lifeboat, gather a chunk of ice, return
to the ship and have the kitchen staff create an ice carving for that nights
midnight buffet! I’ve no idea whether we could secrete the ice today but why
would we bother? The midnight buffet has gone the same way as the radio room
and the Dodo – Extinct!
Enough of memory
lane and back to the present. This 35th Music At Sea was to be in two parts. A 7 day
‘Mercury’ cruise to Alaska followed by a 5 day land tour in Canada including
2 days onboard the Rocky Mountaineer in Gold Leaf Service and an overnight
at the legendary Chateau Lake Louise. The big attraction in that part of the
world is, of course, the scenery, and therein lies
a potential spoiler which we are all powerless to control - the weather!
When it rains it’s misty. When it’s misty there’s limited visibility and when
there’s limited visibility one cannot see the scenery! If I told you we had
had sunny days throughout our trip I would not be telling the truth so I’ll
level with you. Dear reader, it did rain and it was frequently misty and,
sad to report, this
must be one of the few times that the sun did NOT always shine on the righteous!
Not that the rain dampened the
spirits of the Music At Sea group! Heavens No! Even the news that a man had
been killed by a bear in Alaska a few days earlier couldn’t deter the more
adventurous. One of our members
hired a boat for fishing – (but caught nothing! It must have been the most
expensive ‘non fish’ of his life and to save his blushes I promised not to
mention his name. Bruce, your secret’s safe with me!) Carter went on a sled
drawn by huskies and showed me the photo to prove it. He was
loving it – the huskies looked pretty happy also! Two of our more intrepid members, Pris and Wes,
went Zip Riding! Hello? Zip Riding? They loved it, coming back so exhilarated
that the more sedentary amongst us – self included – knew we’d missed out
on something special but couldn’t quite work out what it was! They said it
was ‘cool’! OK, I’m not disagreeing
– How could I when they so obviously had a fabulous time – but the attraction
of extreme, life threatening activities completely
eludes me. Zip Riding? Bungee Jumping? The world’s going crazy – for me crossing the
road is more than enough excitement. I
recall a colleague, the great Beni Mason, giving
his take on bungee jumping. “That’s when you go helpless into the unknown
with only a cord attached to your waist. I only tried it once – its called BIRTH!”
Mercury sailed to the Hubbard
Glacier - an anomaly in this time of global warming as, far from melting,
it has continued to expand during the last 100 years! In fact, in May 1986, the forward surge of the glacier blocked the outlet of Russell
Fjord which, unable to excape into the sea became
an ever expanding lake! Throughout the summer the lake grew and grew until
the inevitable happened, the icy dam gave way and in the second largest glacial
outburst in history, the fjord’s waters cascaded towards to the ocean.
I stood on the deck as we approached
the glacier and could have been forgiven for imagining I had fallen into a
giant bowl of sugar frosted rice krispies! Around
me, a sea of thawing, miniature icebergs were giving vent to the Alaskan version
of ‘snap crackle and pop’ as air, imprisoned inside for thousands of years
burst into the 21st century.
Fellow guests
are always good for amusement – and within the group we’ve always had the
ability to laugh at ourselves as this dinner-time story illustrates. A tale
of childhood abuse centered around a banana! (Its OK – perfectly safe to read on!)
As a little girl, the raconteur was given a banana – a fruit she had never
seen or tasted - by a soldier newly returned from the front in Africa. Dear
reader, I write the word ‘banana’ but, truth to tell, this was no ordinary
banana! This was a well travelled banana,
a genuine ‘road warrior, frequent flyer’ banana, which had survived bullets,
bombs, and all manner of trials and tribulations before coming to the (comparatively)
safe shores of England’s green and pleasant land. In the past soldiers have
returned to their homeland with great works of art, diamonds, gold and other
precious gems but this soldier had brought something which, to him, was more
precious. Yes, I’m still referring to the aforementioned banana. Beauty is
in the eye of the beholder and, if the banana had any defects this beholder
was blind, deaf and impervious to them such was the awe, wonderment and devotion
with which he regarded his beloved banana.
Now had come
the moment to reveal this pride and joy to the assembled throng of well wishers
gathered to salute our hero. As the treasure was unveiled, his onlookers oohed and aahed with unabashed joy.
"Isn't it Ohhh! Isn't it Ahhh! Isn't it absolutely Wheee!
etc. etc. ………except for one little girl – now an adult and our storyteller - who, not unlike her counterpart in the
Hans Christian Andersen fable didn’t ohhh and ahhh at all. The eye of this beholder saw no beauty! It saw the banana for what it was. A black,
foul smelling over ripe health hazard which, having been squashed at the bottom of
a knapsack for two months and now released into the fresh air, was omitting
a pungent odour .
The banana was OFF! ……. BAD!.....DECEASED!
- But, amongst the onlookers was the little girl’s mother and when the soldier,
tenderly and lovingly presented the little one with this banana her mother
commanded ‘Eat It’! so ‘Eat it’ she did (and promply threw up) because she was from a generation of children
who did what that their parents told them to do! Our narrator solemnly assured us that this hideous
childhood experience had so traumatised her that
from that day to this no banana had touched her lips. “In fact’ she concluded ‘to this day she can’t
bear to even look at a banana – not even in the fruiterer’.
So enthralled were we by this tragedy our food lay uneaten as as we digested the magnitude of our colleague’s distress.
Meanwhile, the erstwhile victim, having divested herself of her wretched
tale, was now quietly regaining her composure with the aid of hearty swigs
from a cocktail glass which, before our eyes, was emptying with a similar
speed to Russell Fjord breaking though the ice all those years before.
There was an awkward silence and I noticed our raconteur examining
her vacant glass with the sad intensity of one who is baffled by the disappearance
of its contents. Chivalrous action
was called for. “Do let me get you
another” said I “What are you drinking?’ The raconteur
awoke from her dream like state. “Oh…..Thankyou
……… it’s……. a Banana Daquiri”
AHA – the secret
must have been a hidden ingredient!
I was at the
breakfast buffet when a man handed an empty plate to the server behind the
counter.
“Right” he said
with the confidence of one who has come with an agenda and is determined to
see it through. “Two fried eggs”.
Two eggs were
cracked, fried and plopped on his plate which was proffered back to him. The
would-be breakfaster looked affronted.
“Not so fast, ………..we’ve not finished yet”.
His eyes flickered
over the generous display.
“I’ll have some
of that,” (finger pointing) – some of that.” (finger
pointing) – “some of that,” (finger pointing)
The ritual was
repeated as pork sausage, chicken sausage, bacon, mushrooms and corned beef
hash, joined the two fried eggs on the plate. “Anything else Sir?” asked the
ever polite server.
The hungry man
pointing to a dish containing flakes of red and white. “Whats
that?”
“Gratinated carrots with crab Sir”
“I’ll give it
a try – and that?
“Today’s Special
Sir – Caramelised Pears.”
“OK, I’ll have
some of them”
The server looked
at him with interest for, in his home country, there was enough on that plate
to provide his wife and three children with breakfast for several days but,
if those were his thoughts, he disguised them. “Anything
else Sir?”
“Got any baked
beans?”
“Certainly Sir
– shall I put them on a separate plate?’
“No” – indignantly
– “Put them on top of the sausages”
Surely the hungry
man had done. But no, his eyes were still darting around the food counter
like searchlights at a prison camp. What was he looking for?
“You don’t have
any fried bread’ It was a statement rather than a question.
“No Sir – but
we do have toast?”
Sir, furrowed his brow for all of a nanosecond:
“2 slices”
Two pieces of
toast were added to the already congealing mass of comestibles gathered to
mount this dawn assault on his internal organs. “Anything
else Sir?”
“No, that’ll be it”.
And with the care and precision of a balancing
act in Cirque de Soleil the server handed the man the grossly overladen plate. The breakfaster, oblivious of the stares
from other guests, turned triumphantly towards me, face flushed from early
signs of blood pressure and eyes sparkling with anticipatory happiness at
the gastronomic pleasures to come.
“Now that’s what I call a breakfast” he said.
He seemed to
require a reply - so I gave him one.
“That’s what
I call a heart attack.”
He chuckled happily.
Can you believe
it? He genuinely thought I was joking!
Of course the
joke is frequently on me – it’s become a group sport! One of our guests, Carter
approached in thoughtful muse:
“When you play
the piano you remind me of someone”.
Who did he have
in mind? Liszt? Chopin? Well, No, Carter
has had these thoughts before and the ‘someone’ turned out to be Thomas Jefferson
who, although not famed for his musical prowess, was a founding father with
a good wine collection. Who was Carter thinking of now. Could it be another great leader - Roosevelt,
Churchill – surely not Napoleon?
I had to ask.
“Who do I remind
you of Carter?”
I should have
noticed the gleam in his eyes. I had swallowed the bait.
He continued
innocently:
“That
fellow in the Christmas thing”.
My thoughts immediately
went to White Christmas. Danny Kaye…… Bing Crosby? (this would have been an improvement on Thomas Jefferson)
but Carter looked at me as though I’d lost my marbles.
“No, no, no.”
He scratched
his head.
“What’s it called
now? Come on Brooks - it was written by one of yours. Got
it. …….. Dickens”
I was puzzled
– Oliver Twist, Nicholas
Nickleby - definitely not. Ah….. ‘A Christmas Carol’ –
who on earth could I resemble in that……then it dawned on me. Oh NO
“You don’t mean……
SCROOGE!”
Carter looked
as one might after after scoring three home runs.
“That’s the one”
he contentedly replied. “Alastair Sim - 1951 – We’ve got
the DVD at home – you remind me of SCROOGE”
On a more serious
note, one of our guests, an engineer from Canada, permanently wore an iron ring on the
little finger of his left hand and, from my enquiry as to its significance,
came this explanation. In 1907 a bridge being constructed over the St. Lawrence
at Quebec collapsed, killing 75 workmen. From
this came the Canadian tradition to present all graduating engineers with
a small iron ring – originally fashioned from the iron of the collapsed bridge
- which they wear both as a tribute to those who died but also as reminder
to themselves to uphold the highest moral, ethical and professional standards.
Following the catastrophe it was also decided to draw up a code of conduct
for Canadian Engineers and the man charged with the task of writing it was
….Rudyard Kipling. I bet you didn’t know that! - and before we leave
the subject here is a piece of specialised knowledge
which could make you money! Kipling
also wrote the lyrics for the Whiffenpoof Song! So next time you hear the slurred sounds of:
We are
poor little lambs
Who have
lost our way,
Baa!
Baa! Baa! Etc. etc.
Have a wager with the happy carolling inebriates on whether they know who wrote it – you might make a fortune!
Canadian
Engineer’s ring worn in memory of the Quebec bridge disaster
Back in Vancouver
the group and I temporarily parted company: they to the luxury and splendour of the Rocky Mountaineer and myself to a cheerless
piano studio in Vancouver where I was to put the finishing touches to the
upcoming concert at Lake Louise. (Yes, they got the better deal!)
Rocky Mountaineer on Canyon Bridge – (Rocky
Mountaineer web site)
In my studio - part of a suite of rehearsal and teaching rooms situated on the fourth floor of a large music store - I couldn’t help but notice the incredibly high percentage of Asian names featuring in the lists of prize winners proudly displayed on the wall. Within China there are claimed to be over 30 million piano students and this astonishing popularity is clearly mirrored amongst Vancouver’s large Asian population. Another poster had the exhortation: ‘No laughter – No Learning’ I so agree with those sentiments that we could make it a motto for Music At Sea. But then I spotted another poster on the wall – clearly aimed at parents debating whether to shell out hard earned cash on music lessons – which gave me food for thought so I took a photo to show you:
Sign in Vancouver Music Studio
What do you think?
I’ll be frank. It makes me a trifle uneasy. There’s something missing in the
above. Do you see anything about a love of music? Do we have to make excuses
to study it?
After a few days in Vancouver
I flew up to Calgary where the centrepiece of each
luggage carousel had exhibits showing ‘How the West was Once”.
So here I was, at last, in the old Wild West, scene of so many grainy cowboy
films dimly remembered from youth. Driving over to Banff I half expected a
horseriding posse led by John Wayne to come galloping out
of the distance. Would I see Mom and Pop sitting in rocking chairs on their
veranda – and just as that thought crossed my mind a pickup truck with an
old rocking chair in the back drove past! Syncronicity!
The scenery was intoxicating and in my heady state I recalled a childhood
joke – ‘How many ears had Davy Crockett?’
(Answer: Three: A left ear, a right ear ………and a Wild Front Ear) and
then the Rocky Mountains loomed ahead signalling
journey’s end.
No Cussing – you might offend the Horses.
Don’t Steal – The Government doesn’t like
Competitors,
Alimony is Like
buying Oats for a Dead Horse.
If in the Spring
your thoughts turn to the opposite sex you’ve been wasting the winter.
Trail riding is not a life or death matter
– its more important than that.
‘Yes’, they were
for sale but ‘No’ I didn’t take one home!
I settled into
the Chateau Lake Louise – what a magnificent hotel - and dining that night in the Fairmont restaurant
had a strange experience. A woman I had never seen before came up to me and
said “Oh – You’re dining alone – I’ve been dining alone – If I had known you
were dining alone I would have come and joined you”!
I’m so glad she
didn’t! Is this the way people behaved in the old Wild West?
The next day was July 1st which every Canadian knows is Canada Day. The terrace of the Chateau came alive with happy people celebrating the national day. Included in the events were canoe races and bathing in Lake Louise but with the temperature having dropped below freezing the previous night it was an Eliza Doolittle response from me - (Not bloody likely) - but some hardy folks plus a dog splashed around! I played our final concert on a vintage Steinway in the tranquillity of the Fairmont room with its stunning views of the lake and glacier and then we trouped into the brilliant sunshine to pose for our group picture.
The Group at Lake Louise, Canada Day (July 1) 2010.
Later that day, my route to the
airport took me back through Banff where the main street was lined for the
parade. I was witnessing the real Canada, the soul of Canada. So many families
with children, waving the national flag, their faces painted for the occasion
and wide eyed with excitement. One could almost feel and touch their genuine
sense of community and pride in their country. We don’t do anything similar
in the UK and are the poorer for it.
But now it was time to bid ’Farewell’
to this sleeping giant called Canada, taking with me memories of its breathtaking
scenery and quietly spoken people steeped in gentle thoughtfulness, good manners
and kindness. May I be fortunate enough to return soon.
Brooks