Let Nature Disappoint

 

I went to Alaska for the wildlife. I know there is more to see: mountains, fiords, glaciers and northern lights. But I really wanted to see the bears, moose, whales and puffin. We planned our trip to include both a bus ride and a boat ride through National Parks that cater for those looking to see the "Big 5".  I was guaranteed to see everything on my checklist.

Moose were easy to see. Mothers and calves hung around the car park, while males fed along the road. Check✔. Our bus driver pointed out a few lonely caribou, but everyone wanted to see bears.  We did finally see a couple of grizzlies that were so far away you needed binoculars to identify them. Check ✔??

We saw smaller creatures; squirrels, hare, shrew and ptarmigan. I have to admit I was disappointed. Where were the large herds and prearranged  sightings?

The landscape was empty, cold and colorless, nothing like my African safari that drove us through prancing antelope up to a river full of hippo. Denali National Park is home to quite a variety of wildlife, but most are solitary roamers, spreading out to feed without over grazing or competing for food. Their active season is so short, they spend all the summer months constantly searching for food and avoiding other predators. The Dall sheep stay high up on the slopes and many of the wolves actually leave the park in search of easier food. Although the park limits the number of cars driving in, there were no animals crossing the road.  There was no need for the animals to hang around humans, as they had the whole of 6 million acres to escape into.  May is only the beginning of the tourist season, and most plants hadn't even leafed out yet.  Snow still covered higher valleys and no fish swam in the streams. 

I put my disappointment aside and put my faith in seeing a whale for the first time when we reached Seward. The boat tour was almost cancelled due to bad weather. I braved the cold rain and high waves to go out on the bow to watch the Dall's porpoises swim alongside. This was a first for me, but not one of the Big 5. As we carried on through the rough seas, it became clear that we would not see anything under the water. Our captain drew our attention to some "blow" that could be humpback and another he claimed was evidence of orca, but I never saw anything by choppy waves. Puffins flew by in the misty rain, but I never got a good glimpse of their colorful beaks.  

I appreciated the cool blue ice of the glacier, but again I

felt slightly let down.  I needed to go back over all I had seen and learned from my trip to Alaska to realize that each glimpse of wildlife there was a gift, a rare peek into life on our planet. The tundra was home to wild flowers, grasses, moss and lichen. The cold is intimidating to humans, but sustains an ecosystem.  Predators are a part of a balanced food chain that weeds out the old and sick to create a healthy animals. They know to keep their distance from humans, because we are the unpredictable ones. 

Part of me still wished to have that bear encounter, or see a whale surface. But what I realized was that I was looking in the wrong places. A zoo, aquarium or natural museum would have given me a close up look of these amazing creatures. The Natural Parks provide a safe place for wildlife to hide from hunters and live in seclusion. They don't put them on display.

Really we should be leaving the wildlife alone, respecting its right to privacy.  I have heard of tour boats that corral whales to ensure sightings; game keepers that tag big cats to be able to show them off; vendors that set up stalls along the road side to feed the elephants from tourists' cars; training animals to give shows like circuses. 

My learning to appreciate a wild view empty of rare animals, is one way to respect wildlife. The fact that I paid money to go to Alaska does not guarantee my seeing certain animals, it does give me a chance to learn about their habitat and why preserving it is so important. 

Torn in Three

 

It is the second time in a few weeks that I have flown from my workplace on Kwajalein over to my home in Minnesota, and then on to my mother's home in England.... and back. If you are looking down at the earth on the North Pole, Kwajalein would be at 12:00, Minnesota at 9:00 and London at 6:00.  We are talking about half way around the world and back, twice. 

Why?  Well I find myself in a position where I have pressing reasons to be in all three locations. I have a contract to teach Media through the end of May to my students in the Marshalls. And teachers are hard to replace.  When I am not there, the library doesn't open, and students fill time waiting for me to return on island. My sons live in Minnesota, and there, also, is the only home I have ever owned. It is a place to relax and be me. And then my mother's address in London is where I go to keep in contact with family, and honor the memory of when we were all younger and lived closer together.

Recently I have felt the pull to return to England and spend time with my mother. This became more intense as my mother's health worsened, and needed a full time carer. I would go every summer, until it became clear that she would not last until next summer.  People say, "You should go..." and "It's just a plane ticket." But as soon as I arrive, I feel the need to go back, to fulfill my duties in the classroom. And so it becomes a constant tension of feeling the pull to travel there, when I am here.  I need to be there in order to be able to afford being here.  I don't know how to give up one  with losing the other.

There was I time when I also felt the pull to return to Brazil. It did not seem right that I turn my back on my childhood, and roots that contribute to making me who I am. But my options in Brazil were hindered by complicated name changes and identification papers. In the end I lost my passport, without the chance of renewal... so I turned towards making my home in the US. 

By making a home, I mean buying a house and spending a few days of the year in it in order to keep my residence papers current. It is always a joy to return to my home, my sons, my garden, my kitchen. I look forward to being there, even if it is only for a few days on the way to somewhere else. My clothes hang in the closet, my toothbrush by the sink, the lights are on, and someone is there to welcome me home. But I can't stay home too long... because we all need to work, to earn our way, ... and have health insurance.  So I leave again, and go back to work in one of the few places that still wants a school librarian.   

I am here in England to say goodbye to my dear mother, whose decision to leave home and work abroad probably started me on this path. I cannot say for sure what, or where, I will be living next year. But I do know that my pull to come back to the UK will not lessen. I will continue to need that connection with family here. I want to spend time with my mother's things, and refresh the memory of all that she was to me. That will not go away.  I want to come in the summer and smell her roses, clean her windows and answer her mail.  I want to care for the legacy that she created.  But I have obligations elsewhere. How is it that I have got myself into this three way tug-of-war? I want to be in three places at the same time.  Is this making me three dimensional... or torn apart? And will I ever be able to choose one place to settle?

Visiting Roi-Namur

 

This is an island most will never visit. In possession of the US Military since WW2, it houses top secret radar and optics facilities in the middle of the Pacific. Because I am employed as a government contractor, I am allowed access for R&R from my nearby home of Kwajalein. The flight in is free, although there are no flights at all on weekends. I can only take advantage of this getaway if I leave after the work week is over on Saturday, and return before work on Tuesday. I travel there as "space available".  Those who work daily on Roi take precedence when the flights are boarded. There is a sort of hotel room for visitors, which is in fact a dorm room, with attached bathroom.

We are grateful of the bus service which takes us around the runway to our quarters. The island is actually two islands, Roi and Namur, that have been joined by filling in the gap between them. On Roi you will find the airport, runway and 'downtown'.  Namur houses the radars and other working facilities. 

As usual, the weather is rainy, and so we head to the nearest beach shack to relax before dinner. There is the mess hall, or a snack bar serving pizza and burgers. I am always curious to talk with those who call this place their home.  It is both remote and rustic. Much of the island is overgrown, chickens range during the day, and rats swarm at night.  A walk under the stars may also bring out the coconut crabs.  

Now I invite you to take a tour with me, of an island you will never visit. 

In the morning we walk anti-clockwise around Roi, stopping first at the Gabby Shack.  This platform deck looks ocean side, a great place to watch the sunset.

At high tide the palm trees lean out over the water, at low tide there are tide pools to explore. We find clam shells, old Coke bottles and what looks like an aircraft wing. There are also bullets and shell casings to be found, although we are not encouraged to remove them.  Crabs seems to sleep in the shallows, and sharks pass close to the beach. Everywhere there are palm fronds and coconuts littering the beach. 

At the end of the runway we pass the incinerator. This is the same site that housed the Japanese incinerator during their stay in WW2.  We find old bottles, canteens and sea glass from those days. 

A spit of sand reaches out toward the next islands in the atoll, but we turn and walk along the lagoon side of the island to the airport. Here the beach is sandy and wide, perfect for swimming and families with small children. 

We walk the rest of the way around the island passing the old Japanese headquarters. Their bunkers are crumbling now, and safe only for rats.  The US bombed the islands before invading, taking out all existing vegetation.  The palm trees that now line the road ways were all planted post war. 

After lunch we get a ride on a golf cart to the marina on Namur. Today is a special day because families with children have been invited over to 'trick-or-treat' from neighboring Third Island. About 300 Marshallese will come over by boat and ferry, and walk around the work facilities for candy.  From our chairs at the Dive Shack, we watch them arrive. Many of the parents work on island, and this is a family day out for them. Although this is not the only time they have access to American products. The base runs a grocery store for Third Island residents that sells American food. 

'Trick- or-treating' over, we head out for a swim. The reef between the islands provides a shallow channel where water rushes in with the tide.  We waded in ocean side, and let the current carry us along the shore to be deposited on a spit of sand lagoon side. I was ill equipped for such a ride, and managed to scrape along and clamber over the coral reef. Still, I was better off than our friend who had brought his dog.  The animal quickly decided against the rapids and took off into the jungle. After we found everyone, we headed back to Roi, a shower and a hot meal.

Roi Namur is a the ideal island for a weekend getaway, despite the fact that there are no flights to and from on the weekend, and most of the facilities there are closed as well.  One is forced to hike, relax in a hammock, dive or snorkel.  There is nothing to spend your money on, no souvenirs, restaurants or hotels.  I was fortunate to have some night life on my visit, as I was traveling with the band, Anywhere Atoll. They provided great music for partying each evening.  It was quite an anticlimax to have to wake up before dawn and take the flight back to work.

"I know my father did his part to secure the freedom I now enjoy — with the 23rd Marines, 4th Division, and the battles to secure Roi-Namur, Saipan, Tinian and Iwo Jima." B Stone

Meeting Nature Halfway

 

The Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew, in London, are open all year round and draw crowds to see their displays, structures and landscaping.  There you can visit a Japanese garden, an orchid house, a giant bee hive and every other imaginable collection of plants. Where to go first? I always go to the Kitchen Garden.  It is hard find, as traditional kitchen gardens are, hidden behind tall brick walls. You enter through archways covered in climbing roses and clematis.  One long wall is the backdrop for a bed of different salvia (sage) plants that vary in color from purple and white to red and orange. Each type is neatly labeled with a printed sign. 

The lavender is in bloom, covering the roots of the pear trees.  The apple trees are carefully pruned to stand no more than 4 foot in height, and already laden with fruit. There are peas on poles, flowering herbs and decorative lettuces. Far from being planted in rows, they are allowed free roam of the beds, separated only by a grassy walkway. The result was a cornucopia of color and abundance. I found one bed with a sign: 

Bee Nutrition

The crops in this bed are being grown for their flowers.  Kew Science will be collecting the flowers and analyzing the nutrient content of the pollen as a food source for bees. 

The bed seemed to be growing herbs and vegetables. Interesting that only the flowers would be harvested!  This neither fit with my idea of a vegetable garden or a flower garden. 

Before I had time to dwell on the true purpose of this garden, I spied another fenced area behind a bank of daisies so thick it became a mound of white. Inside I spied more flowers, and large leafy vegetables all tumbled together. The fence was covered in grape vine, with some raspberries peeking through the gaps. Wild flowers like cornflower and

poppies were allowed to grow where they wished. Here, too, I found colorful sweet-peas growing up makeshift canes tied together with string. On exiting this lovely corner I discovered it was connected to the School of Horticulture, and these were the students' gardens. Imagine this being a school assignment! 

A traditional kitchen garden, which grew herbs and fruit for the household, was always enclosed by a high wall. I initially thought this was to protect the more delicate plants from the elements and rabbits.  However, it turns out the walls were to hide the garden from the family when they used the formal gardens. Gardeners could continue to work unseen throughout the day, and, this is what really intrigues me, the beds

did not have to appear immaculate or tidy. Wild flowers, and some weeds, were allowed to grow for no reason other than their fresh natural look. Experiments could fail, without anyone knowing. Lettuce and sunflowers were allowed to go to seed, providing a later crop and food for the birds. Flowers could be cut for the table, or simply left to brighten up the beds. Nature was allowed to thrive behind closed walls. 

I had to look hard, but I knew I would find nasturtiums in the students' kitchen garden. These flowers are seldom found in formal flower gardens despite their vibrant beauty. They tend to be untidy and break the rules of what makes a showy display. They cannot be cut for arrangements, but the flowers are edible (tasting like radishes) and can

be added to salads. They do not have a strong stem, but tend to climb and clamber over whatever is nearby. If you try to stake them up with a cane, they rebel and grow down, rather than up. This is because they lack tendrils and flop in the breeze. The flowers change color on a single plant, from yellow to orange to red, and quickly seed down to pop up in the wrong places. I love them. I let them do their thing and marvel at their natural way of bringing beauty to unexpected spots.  I have stopped trying to cultivate them, I just let them be, and occasionally nibble on their flowers. 

One October I visited the kitchen garden of a manor house in southern England. Most of the beds had been cleared for winter, but the

nasturtiums still grew haphazardly around the borders, in their last hurrah. Their straggly flowers, blazing with color, were such a contrast to the carefully tended empty beds. I like to think that I allow nature to delight in my garden, without my interference. 

History of a Moat

 

Going into London is always an adventure, and I don't try to see too much in a day. This time I headed to the Tower of London, which I haven't visited since the boys were young.  It is known for housing the Crown Jewels, but I had heard of an experimental garden being started in the drained moat. One look at the expanse of wildflowers prompted me to pay the £ 33 entry price and join the queue of tourists.

As you can imagine, the moat was originally built by William the Conquerer as a defensive ditch. It was flooded by the Thames at high tide. Various kings after him extended the moat so that the Tower was surrounded by water.  This water moved in and out with the tide and supplied fresh fish and washed away sewage from the inhabitants.

More building cut off the moat's access to the river, and the trapped water became a fishery.  However, by the 1840's, the smell of the stagnant water full of sewage became so bad that the Duke of Wellington was forced to have the moat drained. It has been dry ever since.  At times food was grown on the flat bottom of the ditch, including during WWII when the residents of London were encouraged to turn their lawns into vegetable gardens. 

At other times the moat became a camp for soldiers ready to go into action. It also doubled as a training space for royal guards.

Then in the 1970's the idea of creating a very prominent garden became a reality as flowers were planted in shape of the Royal Coat of Arms and Cipher of Elizabeth II.  This can easily be seen by anyone crossing the Tower Bridge. Different displays have been exhibited here to commemorate royal events. When I visited last summer, I noticed there was some construction going on, but nothing growing, just piles of dirt. 

The new project was to celebrate the Queen Platinum Jubilee with a wild flower garden throughout the moat. Pathways and art pieces were placed, but nothing was planted in the hope that nature would take over. Nothing grew. So this year the moat was plowed over, fertilized, sowed with seed, and watered. This resulted in the beautiful expanse of colorful "wild" flowers I wandered through on my visit to the Tower instead of queuing to see the jewels. There is a great diversity of color that might not be found in the country. Poppies and cornflowers of many colors spilled over into the path, ornamental thistles and Queen Anne's lace towered above. The bees were busy moving between the foxgloves and daisies.  There were no gardeners at work weeding and snipping,  just hoses being used to water the area.  This is not a native wildflower field, it is a field carefully cultivated to look wild. 

I don't mind that these flowers needed to be seeded and watered. I love the mass of color reminding me of how beautiful messy gardening can be. 

Since most people were queuing to get inside the Tower, I had the moat garden to myself. I wandered through the pathways beneath the walls, into the shadow of Tower Bridge.  I was tempted to finish my visit there, but felt I needed to get my money's worth and at least find a Beefeater to photograph. Nothing else, not even the Koh-i-Noor, left me with more of an impression than the flowers in the moat. 

Eccentric & Exotic

 

In the UK, there is no lack of large country houses, originally owned by Lords and Ladies. And although these are now open to the public, as exhibits of a golden age, their interest is more than just as a museum. Many of the aristocratic families had lifestyles that provide the real interest. The Museum of National History at Tring is primarily a collection of stuffed and mounted animals. Over the years it has grown to hold more animals, skeletons, insects and eggs. However, the story of how the museum and its collection came to be, and its owner Walter Rothschild, adds color and interest.  In acknowledgment of this curious life, the museum has opened another exhibit: the Rothschild room.

The sheer number of animals stuffed and staged in glass cabinets is impressive. The size of larger exhibits like the bears and elephants are also worth a visit.  I was pleased to find unusual creatures like deep sea fish, rare specimens like a coelacanth, and a South American Screamer. The screamer is a large bird I was attacked by in the Brazilian Pantanal, running for cover as it aimed to harm me with the sharp bone spurs on each wing. 

A few of the specimens do not look lifelike to those of us who have had ample opportunity to view footage of these animals in real life. But when the first of the collection where stuffed, most people had never seen the real animal.  This collection is certainly extensive with many specimens that were new to science.

But who collected all these animals from far off and dangerous lands? Walter Rothschild, son of the first Earl Rothschild, started collecting insects as a boy.  By the time he was 10, he opened a 'museum' in his parents' garden shed. He also kept live specimens on the family land, Tring Park.  The menagerie of exotic animals included emus, zebras, kangaroos and a large number of giant tortoises. The zebras were trained to pull a carriage that took Walter to Buckingham Palace.

Walter's family did not appreciate his interest in natural history, and to get the specimens out of the house his father built him a museum for his 21st birthday. That was the beginning of the Tring Zoological Museum.

Walter himself did not go off around the world, he had many collectors that went to over 48 countries and brought him back specimens. One collector was his brother, Charles, who collected fleas, looking for the flea that spread the bubonic plague. I'm not sure how he knew he had the right one!  Another Charles, recored a disastrous exhibition to the Galapagos. The ship's captain died of yellow fever, one man was sacked for drunkenness and another ran away. All funds were spent on undertaker and doctor fees, so the remaining two men had to abandon the expedition. Both caught yellow fever and only Charles Harris survived to try again. That in itself would make a bestseller! 

Another sailor was sent to Hawaii, (then the Sandwich Islands) to collect birds. He documented the harvesting of thousands of eggs which gave Tring the biggest egg collection in the world.

Walter's endeavor was not without its troubles. More than once he encountered money problems and was forced to sell off parts of his collection for cash.  His prized bird collection went to New York. Only after his death was it revealed that he had been blackmailed by a former mistress and her husband for 40 years. 

Many might have found Walter Rothschild odd, and certainly eccentric.  But his single mindedness created the largest natural history collection assembled by one person. Researchers and film makers around the world have continued to use the Tring museum in their work for the 125 years that it has been open. Walter's story certainly made it memorable for me!

And then there is AMI

 

Travel has become so automized. We book flights on an app, receive updates as texts, and can even track our bags as they fly from place to place. So we instantly know when a flight is cancelled, as it is just as quick to rebook on another flight. I am used to this way of traveling and was caught unawares when my flight home for the summer was canceled, due to a typhoon in Guam, with no clear chance of rebooking another within weeks.

I was delighted to find out from a parent of a student in my class, that there might be another way to fly out, with Air Marshall Islands. The only catch was that I had to be at the AMI office, packed and ready to go, within 2 hours. She could only hold the plane for me so long.

To make things more difficult, it was raining hard, and my only transport to the airport was my bike. I packed hurriedly, grabbed my passport and headed out into the rain, pulling my suitcase behind me. Because of the rain, all the hopeful passengers were crammed into the small office, where I waved to my parent contact to let her know I was here. No one asked for my name, my passport or any ID. The only actions taken were to weigh me and my bags, and accept payment for the flight in cash. No ticket was issued and no receipt was given. I wasn't even sure the time of departure or destination.

I waited to board in a small room piled high with boxes. Names were being called out and passengers walked out to the plane with umbrellas. The plane was ready to take off when someone notice me in the  waiting room, and said, "Why didn't you get on?" As I ran out to the plane, I noticed my bag sitting by the exit.  I grabbed it and carried it to the plane with me. As it didn't fit under the seat or in the overhead compartment, the flight attendant took it to a door at the back of the cabin where the cargo was held. 

Only after take off did the same flight attendant come by to tell me we were headed for Wotje Island, but not to worry, after that we would go on to Majuro, the capital.  I appreciated the heads up as we came down to land on the tiniest speck of an island with no visible run way.  The flight was what my father would call a "puddle jumper".  It flew in low over the island and came down on a strip of grass.  No passengers were picked up, only a few coolers were loaded on. I appreciated being allowed out to look around, but was told not to go far. After about 10 minutes, the flight attendant called us back with a wave of the hand. Then we were off to Majuro, where we hoped to make a connecting flight.

This island is really a strip of land 30 miles long, but it has a proper runway and can receive international flights. The airport is far from efficient, and I was glad of the help of some fellow passengers who spoke English. They told me where to go to get my bags, which turned out to be wrong, but was a nice gesture. Of course there were no signs that said "Baggage Claim this way".  We all wandered around the terminal until we finally found the bags in a garage.  I'm glad I didn't have to prove the bags were mine, because I had no claim tags.  I was very grateful to AMI for getting us here. I later found out that they had bumped several other passengers so some other teachers and I could take the seats.  A friendly passenger had a pickup truck and offered to take us and our bags along the island's only road to a hotel for the night. 

Not at all what I expected, but AMI did the job!