The last time, I was lucky enough to escort the shore excursion, Capture Moorea by Photo by 4×4. Described as such; “Your guide, who is also a professional photographer, will take you to stunning locations only accessible by 4WD. Ride can be bumpy. Awesome sights.” It was a tour and a master class in the art and tech of photography.

As my regular readers know, I don’t have good luck with cameras. My current model is a simple Fuji underwater point and shoot; not the best for taking pictures on dry land, but it gets the job done. I couldn’t take a point and shoot on a tour designed to help one take breathtaking photos of stunning vistas so I borrowed a Cannon G-11 from a friend and… I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves.

Jew and Gentile readers, I give you the island of Moorea, Society Islands, French Polynesia, through my camera lens:

As before, I cleaned out my closet and drawers of unwanted clothes and contributed to fund setup by another entertainer used to buy for dental hygiene products. Putting all my singles in my pocket, I left my wallet on The Boat.

We bypassed the handicrafts and nearby beach and headed out on the only road on the island to see what else the island had to offer.

“How far does the road go?” I wondered aloud.

“As far as it goes.” My companion answered.

“Well, let’s find out!” I shouted. “Adventure awaits.”

We passed thatched roof huts, seaweed farms and corrugated aluminum structures, likely churches, as we rode along the unending road to nowhere.

We passed locals, glad to see us. “Hello!” They shout, joy in their voices.

We rode as far as the rode allowed us, about four miles, until, quite suddenly. the rode ended. We were treated to a shallow lagoon at what seemed to be the end of the island.

We had no choice but to leave our bikes and walk to the very tip of the sunken, extinct volcano which made the island.

“Should we really leave our bikes unattended?” My companion asked.

“I think they’ll be okay.” I replied.

“Well, if some locals come and snatch ‘em up it means we’re running back to the boat, over four miles. Are you prepared to do that?”

“I have a feeling the crime rate on Fanning is really low.”

“We miss the ship, we’re stuck here….”

Shrugging our shoulders, we left our only transportation where it had fallen and started to walk through the shallow lagoon to the other side.

We could almost make out where we started in the distance, our vision clouded only by the buzzing dragon flies. It was nearly paradise. We’d not seen another human or man made structure for about two miles. We were alone, smack-dab in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. It was humbling.

Leaving the untouched landscape behind, we started back. The Boat would be leaving shortly and unless we wanted to spend the next few weeks on the island we’d have to haul ass over the bumpy terrain. As we got closer to the pier, the island was suddenly bustling. We slowed as we met with oncoming traffic; the vendors heading home; wares in baskets resting on hips, on bicycles and heads.

The waved and shouted.

“Thank you for visiting!”

“God bless you!”

“Good-bye for now!”

One of the youngest among them reached for my hand and said, “I love you. Thank you.”

Even my dark heart was touched by their gratitude.

We made it to the pier with time to spare.

After riding approximately eight miles in just under three hours. My companion and I, both exhausted and exhilarated from the experience stopped at the post office to pick up a few post cards and made a quick circle through the remaining vendors both picking up carved wooden tiki statues. The few remaining dollar bills left were handed out to random children whose gratitude shone on their faces.

As a big-city boy, I’m not sure how long I’d survive before dying of boredom. (Now, Jew and Gentile Readers, that is NOT a dig at Fanning, rather a dig at my own follies and foibles…) Even if I don’t use New York City and all the attractions which keep me there for all it’s worth, knowing I can, if it’s what I choose, is enough. Here, on Fanning, there’s no choice.

Really, nothing.

I understand the choice, it’s not for me, but it’s worth the visit.

the rusted tug boat in the middle of the lagoon

I visited what’s commonly believed to be one of the largest atolls on the planet. Atolls are circular, oval, or horseshoe-shaped arrays of coral reef islands that are perched around an oceanic volcanic seamount and encircle a shallow central lagoon. Because atoll formation requires coral reef building, atolls are limited to tropical waters and are most commonly found in the Pacific and Indian Oceans.

Fanning Island is in the center of the Pacific Ocean. If you draw a line from Santiago, Chile to Shanghai, China and then draw another line from Sydney, Australia to San Francisco, California where they cross is Fanning Island.
In 1997 Fanning had one working tractor, three working motor scooters, one small flat bed truck, about 100 bicycles for the 300 families or about 1,900 people living there. 2010 is not much different; there are now five flat bed trucks, twenty motor scooters, 270 working bicycles and the population has increased to about 2,900. There are no telephones, no Internet, no electricity, no hospital, no doctor, no dentist, no running water and they often run out of imported food basics. Compared to the West, there is nothing. Heck, compared to The Boat, there’s nothing.

There’d be no “hunting or gathering” on Fanning Island. There isn’t much to do on this primitive, dare I say, backward little island. Now, Jew and Gentile readers, I mean no disrespect to the inhabitants of Fanning, but I guess, I just don’t understand why they choose to live in such poverty.

Yes, it believe it’s a choice.

You see, the atoll, discovered by American captainEdmund Fanning in 1798, and named for him, was uninhabited when he arrived, and like all of the Line Islands in Kiribati has no truly native population.

So, I ask again, “Why do they stay?”

The per capita yearly income is around $500. $500!

Some of the money earned by the sale of handicrafts at the local market, which is set up during the cruise ship visits, is used to help send the children to school, provide communication with CB radios, buy 12 volt lights and batteries, radios, bicycles, solar panels, water, food, clothing and other important needs.

The live off the kindness of strangers on a very difficult, sometimes cruel island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. They survive on reef fish and shellfish, coconut, pig, chicken and seaweed grown in the lagoon which supplements their main diet of imported rice and tinned meats. The island’s major exports are copra (coconut meat) and hand crafts (including cowrie shell, shark tooth knives, and Kiribati postage stamps). A supply ship from Australia delivers necessities only two or three times a year.

They Dance for tips...that sounds dirtier than it really was...

There is no dock.

Did I mention there’s no running water?

No bathrooms?

It doesn’t seem like a very pleasant place to live.

Unlike the equally remote Rapa Nui (Easter Island) there are no otherworldly Moai to visit, no great mystery to the island. The inhabitants were brought to Fanning to work on the once thriving coconut plantation that took up most of the island’s limited land, and now that Norwegian Cruise Line has stopped making regular visits to the island as it did from 1997-2009, Fanning Island is only visited by The Boat on which I work. There’s no airport; no easy way to get there. It’s a two day voyage from it’s closest neighbor Hawaii, and it’s not a very smooth sail.

I tried to do my part.

I donated clothes at the crew office.

I gathered up school supplies for the kiddies.

I I bought twenty dollars worth of trinkets at the craft fair: a handwoven basket, a carved tiki pendant for around my neck and fifteen cowrie shell Christmas tree ornaments. The shells are on their way to the states and should make it to their recipients in time for the holiday – I hope.

After visiting the craft fair, a group of us went snorkeling. Because of the fact we were tendering and the sea was a wee bit angry, it took a while to get the passengers off and therefore we didn’t get there early enough in the day to rent bicycles and trek to the outer reaches of the island where the snorkeling is supposedly better, but we did find a small man-made reef with life. An old concrete block on which coral had starting growing was the only living reef on our side of the island.

Armed with my new Fuji waterproof, dust-proof and shockproof camera I was excited to see some little fishes and take their pictures in their natural habitat. We wandered around a bit and swam and then swam and wandered around a bit. I did get some good underwater pictures and I did get to use my new snorkeling equipment as well.

"the Reef"

When it was time to leave, it was time to leave and unlike many of the islands I’ve been lucky enough to visit in the South Pacific there was no sadness involved, no feeling of “Why is the day so short? Do we really have to leave?” It was just time to leave.

We’ll be heading back in about a month or so, and I don’t believe I’ll be getting off The Boat on Fanning. Or maybe I will, if for nothing else, try to find something redeeming about the island.

For more information:

I never thought go there on my own – I never knew I wanted to go there actually – so I certainly never imagined myself riding around one of the Cook Islands on a scooter. When I found myself there at one of the ports of call during the South Pacific leg of my Grand Voyage it felt as if I was always meant to be there.

As we boarded the tender, we were greeted by the bluest water I’ve ever seen; a rich, clear blue that made the ocean seem as if it were made of liquid sapphires. She was a wee bit angry, the sea was, tossing us around as we made our way to small, almost perfectly round island but that only made the anticipation of arriving on land all the greater.

Survivor filmed somewhere in the Cook Islands, was is Rarotonga? Is this as close to being a contestant as I’ll get?

The first stop was lunch; a burger, fries and an ice cold coke – always a safe bet. The second was the nearest souvenir shop; the goal; a patch – which gets harder and harder to find as the islands we visit get more and more primitive – but the purchase I mades was a locally designed and manufactured sarong.

You read that correctly, Jew and Gentile reader, a sarong.

It’s so-wrong it’s right! The designer was in the store and gave us a quick tying lesson. Who knew there were so many different ways for a man to wear one? I can even make it look like a pair of Bermuda shorts!

The last stop, and the plan for the day, in fact, was the scooter store. Now, I’m not talking the Scooter Store where if you can’t afford your scooter, Medicaid may be able to help with the cost, I’m talkin’ a rental moped with speeds up to 45 MPH – or 60 KPH which sounds a bit butcher…

Vroom Vroom

Without helmets, we sporty gays were off on an adventure. The island is quite small, just the cruise ship port which is not too far away from it’s one big “city” and an airport. The rental agent gave us a map and told us it’d take about an hour to traverse it’s full circumference. We gassed up and hit the open road.

The open road, there’s one road! Well two, but we left the interior road to explore upon our return; our choice was make a left or make a right, we chose right, after all, how could it be wrong? We hugged the coastline where we were shown crystal clear waters, black sand beaches, lagoons and rain.

Lots and lots of rain.

We weren’t deterred. None of us are made of sugar, we weren’t gonna melt… in fact, the rain added a certain something extra to the recklessness of the adventure and it wasn’t a steady outpouring, just on and off, here and there.

At one art gallery we visited the proprietress apologized for the weather.

“It doesn’t usually rain like this. I’m sorry it’s not our usual perfect weather.”

“Listen,” I said, “it may be raining on us, but it’s raining on us in Rarotonga. I’m getting wet in the Cook Islands. That’s… okay.”

We stopped once to jump in the water, we stopped once to admire a public art installation and we stopped many times to admire the island’s natural beauty. And we rode. Weaving around each other vying for the lead position. We were the gay equivalent of the movie Easy Rider, if Easy Rider had been filmed on a remote island and there were no booze and drugs…

After we passed the airport, almost getting blown over by gale force-like winds we realized we’d circled the island entirely; even with the stopping, we’d managed to traverse the island in about an hour and a half. What else was there to do?

Shop.

A quick stop at the local grocery store for bread and body wash – only the essentials for me – we decided to backtrack, and see if we could shop some more. As we were leaving the grocery store parking lot we passed a friend, walking – imagine that, walking…

Meep, meep. Meep, meep. Meeeeeeep, meep.

“Vinnie? What are you doing?”

“Get on!”

“What? Where are we going?”

“Who cares, we’re in the Cook Islands! Just get on!”

“Whoo hoo!”

“Hold on tight, I almost wiped-out once already. WHOOOOOO!”

A quick buzz through “town” and I found the Rarotonga patch I needed to continue my collection – mission accomplished.

We reluctantly returned the motor-bikes; faces windburned and tingling, thighs vibrating from the engine and adrenaline pumping through our veins – at just under $20.00 American, it was a bargain at twice the price. The day was over. I didn’t want to leave but The Boat wouldn’t wait; I begrudgingly boarded the tender as I figured it wouldn’t exactly be cheap to get to our next stop if I missed it, and quietly we made our way back with the rest of passengers.

An amazing day.

I didn’t tell anyone it was my first time on a scooter.

During the five weeks I was cruising Seattle to Alaska, I was able, blessed even, to cross two items off my bucket list.

• I went Dogsledding
• I saw the Aurora Borealis

With the first two weeks of Alaska spent with turnover – rehearsals every day and shows every night, with sleep being the top priority – not sightseeing – the rest of the time; there wasn’t any time for anything touristy. The third week was taken up with the getting into the swing of six shows a week, settling into boat living, and learning boat-speak, so again, there wasn’t much time to do anything other than eat at Tracy’s Crab Shack right on the pier and visit Walmart for cabin supplies.

The fourth and fifth weeks?

Another story completely.

By that time, we knew what we were doing as a cast – read that as “I knew what I was doing” – and the stresses of being in a new place, doing new things and living a completely new and different lifestyle were fading and slowly becoming the norm. Boat living, as I’ve mentioned before, Jew and Gentile reader, takes a lot of getting used to. But I digress, during the fourth week I finally felt comfortable enough to get out and do the touristy things I took this job to do.

Mush a Dog Sled:

The Boat was doing Alaska at the end of the season, I only had one chance to go dogsledding as they’d already begun flying the dogs off the glacier and I was on the waiting list! It wasn’t certain I’d be able to go at all, but armed with my video camera and a deep discount, I waited.

And waited.

I was afraid to step away from the staging area in case they called my name and I missed my chance. I waited two hours until my name was called. When it was, I was put on a bus and after a brief safety talk – which was basically “…watch out for the blades…” and “…don’t get out until told…” – was helicoptered to the top of a glacier. The TOP of a glacier! The pilot was quite talkative and gave us a flight to remember, dipping and swerving and giving us the benefit of his knowledge of the area, the ride was, for the lack of a better word, awesome. The last time I was in a helicopter, it was a ten minute tour of New York City, and while buzzing the Statue of Liberty was breath-taking, skimming the forests of Alaska with nothing but untouched nature for miles and miles gave me a feeling of being small in the grand scheme of things, and that’s not a feeling I experience much…

The whirlybird landed a few yards away from the dogs, and we walked over after another brief safety talk which was basically, “…don’t get tangled up in the lines…” and “…if you fall off the sled, let go…”

We were taken to our sled and met our guide, Sean. A brief introduction led to playing with the pups. The barking was almost deafening. These doggies wanted to run and couldn’t wait to take off into the vast whiteness. They were literally chomping at the bit to go; as they’re bred to race, when each of the other sleds took off, our team was more than ready to mush. We were the last sled to depart the camp; our canines wanted to take off, not wait around and they were letting us know it. When all the dogs were hitched up to sled we mushed.

We stopped three times to admire the scenery and each time we did we switched places on the sled. for the first leg of the 30 minute trek I was out in the front – and remember, as the saying goes, unless your the lead dog, the view never changes, nothing but dog butts – the second leg, I got to steer and while dog-power may be slightly different than horse-power, it’s still powerful.

I’m not sure how many people get the chance to dogsled, the number is probably small in the scheme of things, but I did. I got to feel the power of thirteen dogs pulling me through the frozen plains of Alaska and I felt blessed and honored I had the chance to do so.

See The Northern Lights:

On our final Alaskan cruise of the season, after performing the Girl’s Show, I was putting my costumes away when one of my cast-mates came rushing into the dressing room.

“VINNIE! THE ARURA BOREALIS! QUICKLY, LET US SALLY FORTH TO THE HIGEST DECK!” I hung the clothes, grabbed my camera and followed as quickly as I could.

“ANON! BEFORE THEY FADE!”

‘Anon?’

At that moment I realized my friend may be slightly affected… or crazy.

“TO THE PORT SIDE WITH YOU! PRESS ONWARD!”

And there, standing port side, forward (the front, right of The Boat) God, Buddha, Allah, Mother Earth, whomever your higher power might be, was in the electrified air, giving us a free, spectacular light show. For there, in the nighttime sky were waves of blue, green and orange with specks of red and gold. It felt as if I were in a Coca-Cola Christmas commercial, all we needed were penguins and polar bears, “I’d like to teach the world to sing” indeed!

After watching for twenty minutes or so I was reminded – as I started to shiver – I was wearing shorts and a tee-shirt – I wasn’t planning an Alaskan nighttime deck adventure – I figured I’d go change into something warmer before I caught a chill, and headed for the door; at the exact moment  I was about to turn away from the brightest oranges I’ve seen shoot like fingers across the horizon, a shooting star lit up the sky with an arc of stardust.

A moment.

I magic moment.

I was silenced and humbled, struck dumb by my luck at witnessing such heavenly splendor. Of course my point and shoot couldn’t get a snap-shot, but the picture was burned into my memory for all time. I decided it was time to leave; for me it wouldn’t get much better. Back at the OB (Officer’s Bar) talking about the experience with one of my crew-mates, she responds with,  “Three months of Alaska, I’ve been waiting. The whole season. It figures it’d make an appearance during the last cruise,  after I gave up hope of seeing them and stopped looking. That was one of the reason I took this contract!”

Lesson learned – Never give up hope!

I was also fortunate to visit with Lady Baltimore, a rescued, majestic bald eagle in Juneau, Alaska’s capitol city. I went zip-lining in Ketchikan’s temperate rain forrest from pine trees larger than the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center. I sailed past the Hubbard Glacier, getting close enough that the white thunder produced from it’s breaking apart was near deafening.

Visiting Alaska is a humbling experience, it’s vastness makes you realize exactly where you fit into this world, and let’s face it, you’re a real small piece of the puzzle.

While admittedly, I’m a person who has trouble making up his mind – I either tend to mull things over and over and do nothing or make snap, unthought-out decisions which sometimes have bad ramifications – but when said mind is made-up, I follow through, good or bad.

A few months back I made a decision; I wanted an adventure – a life-changing, wipe the slate clean kind of adventure. I was going to sell all my worldly possessions, give up my apartment, put the cats into foster-care and embark on a trip ’round the world.

Now, I wasn’t considering doing it overnight, something that big takes a lot of planning.

This was my timeline:

1/10-9/10 – prep the sale – I’d made a lot of money using eBay in the past, and I was going to go that route for all the small, shippable things; collectibles, kitchen items and home decor. Half.com for all my books and DVDs. Craig’s List when I got to the big stuff, like furniture and such.

9/10-9/11 – Sell everything I own… I figured a full year would be the perfect amount of time to rid myself of all my extra baggage.

12/21/11 – leave for South America –  I wanted to hit the places I didn’t hit while filming 5 Takes: Latin America. (Available on iTunes – $1.99 per ep or $12.99 for the eight episode season – worth it at twice the price.)

Of course, the Plan had many contingencies; it pretty much hinged on the main goal of paying off all my debt. And that being said, I’d decided not to bring anything else into my life except, food, clothing and basic necessities of life – no more books, no more toys, no more kitchen gadgets - no more anything unnecessary. I was going to curb my spending as and use only cash to pay for anything I may have needed to buy.

Never in my wildest dreams could I imagine I’d get paid to travel around the world – again – but then I booked a job singing and being funny on Holland America Cruise Lines MS Rotterdam. My contract lasts just under a year and I’ll be traveling, on someone else’s dime, mind you, from Alaska to South America and everywhere in between.

The job on the ship allows me to complete the first leg of my world tour – without having to sell everything – and also makes it very easy to pay off all of my debt – two goals in one! I wanted to hit North and South America and I’m going to hit North and South America.

I’m about to begin a very exciting chapter of my life and I can’t wait to find out where else it’s going to take me.