Travel - The Beginning

Islands

I am not going to pretend to be a world traveler. Not by any stretch of the imagination can that be true. But I have been to a few interesting places. I just wish I had better photographs of the early trips. When I lived in Ventura, California I was invited by a friend to tag along with her and her parents to Catalina Island. We got on a small ferry at Long Beach, Calif. and I remember that well because they played music over the loudspeaker. I Left My Heart In Avalon, and Twenty-six Miles Across The Sea played over and over and over. It was fun. I was excited. This was a camping weekend, so it wasn't very glamorous at all. We walked up to a camp ground and my friend and I staked out an area for us and the sleeping bags. Her parents set up a better camp. I was in the 8th or 9th grade, so you'd think I'd remember the details better, but I don't. I know we saw some kind of little zoo, and we went on a horse ride up the mountain trails. My horse started to kick my friend's horse, and I thought I might end up down the side of the hill, which scared me just a tad. But the guide separated us and peace was restored. I remember spending a miserable night on the rocky, hard ground in that sleeping bag. Just the sleeping bag between me and the dirt. No air mattresses then. I decided I wasn't too keen on camping. We also rented bikes and did a bit of bike riding. I remember that the little cove and beach weren't really all the pretty, I didn't think. I think it's a little spiffier now.

http://www.catalinachamber.com/

So that was the first island I'd ever visited. My second island was a bit more fulfilling. When I was a senior in high school, I went to Honolulu, Hawaii. Now we're talking.

You are probably laughing by now. This photo shows me, in February of 1964, right after I got to Hawaii. We had to travel from Roseburg, Oregon to Portland to get our flight. It was cold. Back in those days you dressed to the nines if you got on a plane. Being comfortable was not an option. You will note the wool suit and the large buffalo plaid wool coat with fur trim. And the little camera slung 'round my neck. Also the lei and the windblown look. In 1964 you got off the plane by walking down the stairs that they brought to the plane after it taxied up to the terminal. We got off the plane, and the trade winds quickly undid the hairdo, such as it was. The warm, moist tropical air was a heady experience for me. I could smell pineapples in the air too. And somebody put the flower lei over my head and directed us to the covered area where we could get free pineapple juice. It was love at first sight, smell, and feel. And below is a photo taken the afternoon before we had to leave Hawaii. I was most unhappy and pouting, I think. I vowed to return. In August 1966, I did.