Tag: Lighthouse

Gone Fishin’

Seaview, New Zealand – December 21, 2017

It was a smashing morning. We were both excited about our fishing adventure with Pete Lamb Fishing. We arrived at the Seaview Marina at about 11:40 for our 12:30 departure. Another 19 people from the office and their family joined us, for a total of 21 people.

The Daniel with Captain Pete on the bow.

We saw our boat, the Daniel, entering the marina from Wellington Harbour. At 62 feet (19 meters), it is a good-sized boat. It is white with a red gunwale. As each of us walked up the stairs and stepped on board, Captain Pete greeted us with a smile and a handshake.

Behind the pilothouse was a small room with a dining table and storage cabinets. Leaving that room, one is on the deck. There is a roof above about half of the deck. The remainder is open and not shaded.

Leslie and I took up positions near the door to the dining area, under cover. All of the fishing poles were rigged, baited, and standing in rod holders evenly spaced along the gunwale. As the Daniel reversed and began to make its way through the marina, we marveled at homes above Point Howard. They have a commanding view of the harbor.

Moored just outside the Seaview Marina was the oil products tanker ship, Pacific Rainbow. It is a 28,000-gross ton ship, capable of carrying as much as 46,000 tons of product. At just under 600 feet (180 meters), it is small for a tanker. I imagine that is due to the depth of the harbor. More massive ships probably have too deep a draft to dock at Seaview. The contents of the tanker are pumped to holding tanks at the Mobil Petroleum Products Company for ultimate distribution throughout New Zealand.

Once in the open waters of the harbor, Captain Pete pointed the boat toward the southern point of Somes Island. It is the largest island in the harbor. Currently a reserve under the control of the Department of Conservation, the island previously served as an internment camp and a quarantine location for both humans and mammals.

We passed Somes Island off the starboard side of the boat. I did not realize until this trip that there is a lighthouse on the island. The current tower dates from 1900, while the original lighthouse dates from 1866. It is one of 23 operating lighthouses in New Zealand.

The weather became windier. Luckily, the wind was out of the north, so it was not really cold. Throughout the afternoon, it became more and more cloudy. The good news, we did not have any rain.

Continuing, off the port side of the boat, we could see the Point Halswell Lighthouse. It sits on the northern point of the Miramar peninsula.

After a trip of just under six miles (nine kilometers), we reached the “fishing hole.” We anchored just off the point of Oriental Bay. As soon as the anchor hit the harbor floor, Captain Pete sent his deckhand around to instruct each of us how to use the rods. The hooks were many times larger than the hooks one uses for trout fishing. They are known as self-setting hooks. A trout hook looks roughly like the letter “J.” The self-setting hooks look more like a sloppily drawn letter “J.” The small portion of the hook is bent back considerably toward the main shaft. The tip of the hook is bent back a little more. This design makes it more difficult for the fish to spit out the hook. Virtually every time, the hook ends up in the corner of the fish’s mouth.

For bait, the hooks had either fish or squid pieces. Each pole had two baited hooks and a lead weight of about 12 ounces. There was no casting. One placed a thumb on the wound fishing line on the reel, released the drag, and allowed the line to drop to the harbor floor. As soon as the weight hit the harbor floor, one re-engaged the drag, wound once or twice and then waited. The water was about 65 feet deep (20 meters).

Very quickly, people started hooking fish. The most prevalent fish was the kahawai. I had a large kahawai hooked, but just at the surface, it jumped off. I did not catch anything else the rest of the afternoon.

Leslie did land a good cooking-size kahawai a little later. Captain Pete commented that there was a school of kahawai near us, as evidenced by the sea birds. Several types of seabirds circled near the boat, diving periodically for the fish.

In addition to the kahawai, two red gurnard, one red snapper, and one barracuda found their way onto the Daniel. When a fish made it to the deck of the boat, either Captain Pete or the deckhand removed the hook, dispatched the fish, and placed it in a cooler. They also assisted with snags and tangles, of which there were a few.

The fishing expedition was communal. That means that all fish caught are filleted and distributed evenly to those fishing. So, even though I did not land a fish, I still got an even share of the total catch. When the cooler was full, the deckhand began filleting the fish. He never gutted any of the fish. He filleted both sides and then removed the skin. The deckhand tossed the remains over the side, much to the delight of the seagulls…and who knows what in the depths.

When the first fishing hole petered out (no pun intended), the captain weighed anchor and motored the boat near the port. That meant that while we fished, we could watch the loading of ships. There were two ships docked at the port, a container ship, the other boat was a cargo ship, taking on logs from New Zealand bound for China.

After 30 or 40 minutes, Captain Pete moved the boat to a spot just off the west side of Somes Island. That is where one of the fishermen caught the lone barracuda. The captain said the barracuda was not a keeper because of the worms they usually carry. Instead, the barracuda became bait.

We had fished for a little over six hours when we left the west side of Somes Island, bound for the Seaview Marina. By the time we arrived, the deckhand had all of the fillets in 21 separate plastic bags. Since we received two, I estimate Leslie and I ended up with about two pounds of fish.

Two nights after the fishing trip, we had the fish for dinner along with a trout that a friend had given us. I must say, I was not all that wild with the kahawai. I much preferred the trout. Regardless, the fishing trip was a lot of fun.

Apartments at the point at Oriental Bay.

Wellington in the distance, just beyond Somes Island.

No Air Show

Castlepoint, New Zealand – February 18, 2017
I was up early because I was excited. I had a ticket for Wings Over Wairarapa, an annual air show held in Masterton, New Zealand.

By about 06:30, I was in my car, on my way to Macca’s (McDonald’s) for a breakfast sandwich and a cup of coffee. The weather was unusually dicey. It was cloudy and lightly raining. Regardless; I thought the weather might clear up once I got on the other side of Rimutaka Range. After finishing my brekkie, I got back in the car and headed north on Highway 2.

Crossing the Rimutaka Range, descending to Featherston saw no letup in the clouds or rain. So much for wishful thinking. I continued toward Masterton.

Approaching Masterton, I began to see electronic signs providing directions. The signs designated the preferred lane for use by those driving to the airshow. I followed the instructions. Shortly, near what appeared to be the entrance to the Hood Aerodrome, I ended up in a queue of about six cars. Each car stopped, and the occupants talked at length with the lone man directing traffic. When I arrived at the traffic director, he told me the promoter canceled the airshow for that day. That was so disappointing. I did wonder why none of the electronic signs displayed the closure information.

I turned around. As soon as I found a safe spot, I stopped and assessed what to do next. I remembered recently reading an article in the newspaper about the small town of Castlepoint. I realized I was only about an hour away from the town. I dialed in TomTom and headed east. Like so many other drives in New Zealand, the scenery was spectacular. However, clouds and rain dogged me all the way.

On the road to Castlepoint, the views were stunning.

At Castlepoint, I stopped at a parking area overlooking the bay and lighthouse. The rain was heavy. Regardless, I snapped a few photographs. From there, I drove to the trailhead parking area for the Castlepoint Scenic Reserve. I could see the lighthouse; but, because of the weather, I opted to not walk out to the lighthouse.

The Castlepoint Lighthouse as seen from the sandbar.

I did see several boats on trailers on the sandbar. They launch the boats by tractors or other similar machinery that allows the boat to back into the water. The weather was disappointing, but I vowed to return with Leslie to spend a weekend at Castlepoint.

Two of the pieces of equipment used to launch boats at Castlepoint.

My next plan of attack was driving back to Featherston, having a wood-fired pizza at my favorite restaurant, drive back over the Rimutaka Range, and go home. I set TomTom for home.

Before I departed Castlepoint, I stopped at the Castlepoint Store. I wanted a bottle of water and a snack for the drive. Walking inside, I saw several of the reach-in freezers assembled in the center of the store. The woman that owned the store began to apologize for the inconvenience. She told me the store flooded the night before because of all the rain. That surprised me.

I drove back to Masterton, fully expecting to turn left, heading south on Highway 2. However, TomTom kept trying to get me to turn toward the north. I found a place to pull off the road and took a closer look at TomTom. From Masterton to our home is about 83 kilometers (51 miles). Under normal conditions, the drive is about 1:20. That day, TomTom continued to show my trip’s distance was 232 kilometers (144 miles), with an estimated travel time of nearly 3:30. The plotted route would have taken me to Palmerston North, over to the west side of the North Island, and then south to home. I tried resetting the device several times. Regardless of my attempts, the results were the same.

I decided I knew how to get home. After all, I simply had to head south on Highway 2. As I got to the outskirts of Featherston, I could almost taste the pizza. The road curved to the right. When I rounded the curve, I immediately found myself in an endless line of vehicles. As quickly as I could, I made a U-turn and parked. I grabbed my phone, so I could get on the internet to try to find out what was going on. Suddenly, I understood why TomTom wanted me to go the other way. Officials closed Highway 2 because of an accident and diesel spill on Rimutaka Hill.

There was no reasonable way to get to my pizza restaurant. Even if I could have gotten to the restaurant, I am sure it would have been a mob scene. My hunger demanded satisfaction. I remembered hearing about a place to eat at Lake Ferry. It was only about 35 minutes away. I apologized to TomTom for doubting and set my new destination. Until this trip, I had no idea TomTom was “tuned in” to local traffic conditions.

It was no longer raining, but the cloud cover persisted. I arrived at Lake Ferry and parked in front of the only business; the Lake Ferry Hotel. I went into the café and found it was surprisingly full. I ordered the seafood chowder and a beer. It was so hot inside; I opted to sit at a table on the covered terrace. Before coming to New Zealand, I was not a fan of chowder. But here, they are amazing.

I ate my lunch looking out onto Lake Onoke. Feeding the lake is the Ruamahanga River. The river and the lake drain directly into Palliser Bay. Because of this draining and the tidal action, the area is hazardous for swimming. A sign not too far from the hotel warns one of the dangers.

Ominous warning sign. The browner water is Lake Onoke. The bluer water in the distance is Palliser Bay.

After lunch, I drove a little way out onto the beach. From where I parked, I walked to the edge of the beach, which was a small cliff of about eight or ten feet. I was there as the tide was going out. The water was angry. It was easy to see why there are so many warnings about swimming in the area.

When I got back in the car, I checked TomTom. I could see the route home was now direct. That meant the road over the Rimutaka Range had opened again.

When I got home that afternoon, I was tired. Without really trying, I had driven about 385 kilometers (239 miles). No wonder I was exhausted.

A different view of the machinery used to launch boats at Castlepoint.

Yet another view of the tugs at Castlepoint.

Looking across the bay to the Castlepoint Lighthouse.

A cut alongside the beach road at Lake Ferry reveals layers of sediment.

Lake Onoke shore near Lake Ferry, New Zealand.

Stairway to Heaven

Cape Palliser, New Zealand – June 5, 2016

On the spur of the moment, we decided to drive to the Cape Palliser Lighthouse. The two-hour drive began by going over Rimutaka Pass, one of Leslie’s favorites…not. It is a very twisty-turny road, a two-lane highway with periodic passing lanes. The views are spectacular.
Just outside of Featherston, we turned south on Kahutara Road. Along the way, we drove across a bridge over the Ruamahanga River. It was very picturesque. I kept that in the back of my mind. Shortly after the crossing, we turned onto Lake Ferry Road and finally onto Cape Palliser Road. It was on Lake Ferry Road where we discovered the Burnside Presbyterian Church. A sign out front noted the church dates from 1875. The morning light made for a picturesque photo.

Soon, we were parallel to the coast, driving through some farms. We looked to the south and were surprised to see a snowcapped mountain on the south island. Researching after the fact, I found the peak is Mount Tapuae-O-Ueneku. It is nearly 9,500 feet tall. Surprisingly, the distance between the mountain and us was approximately 90 miles. We also saw Mount Franklyn. It is almost 7,700 feet tall. At nearly 140 miles, I am surprised we could see the peak.

Mount Tapuae-O-Ueneku is on the right. Mount Franklyn is on the left. They are both on the South Island.

That morning, the ocean was a fantastic shade of blue. From the farmland, the road descends several hundred feet to the coast. The way at that point is right beside the ocean. Imagining driving along that road during a strong southerly storm sent chills down my spine. I am sure the waves are treacherous during such a blast. With that idea in mind, a precariously situated house caught my eye. I stopped at the beach for some photos. We could see a blue beach home nearly ready to fall into the surf. It appeared the house was vacant for some time. I was a little surprised the home was still there as opposed to being razed and removed. The home was teetering, seemingly awaiting the next storm and its inevitable destiny with the ocean.

Looking across Palliser Bay toward Turakirae Head.

The southerly storms have obviously pounded this section of coastline.

We stopped at a rocky point less than a mile from the Cape Palliser Lighthouse. The rocks seemed similar to those at the Pancake Rocks at Punakaiki; although there were no blowholes there (see Greymouth). The ocean was relatively calm that morning. Regardless, at that particular point, the sea was quite agitated. The crashing waves mesmerized us.

More of the jagged rocks near Mangatoetoe.

The parking area at the end of the Cape Palliser Road is directly at the base of the stairs that lead to the Cape Palliser Lighthouse. From the parking area, the stairs looked more like an overgrown ladder than actual stairs. In continuous operation since October 27, 1897, the lighthouse is 60 feet tall. Ships as far as thirty miles from shore can spot the light. The red and white paint scheme makes the lighthouse very visible against the brownish-gray of the hillside on which it sits.

At the base of the stairs, we saw a sign with the sad note, “…261 steps it takes to reach it.” From our point of view, it indeed appeared it was the stairway to Heaven. I must admit I was shocked to hear Leslie declare she was game to climb the stairs. We enthusiastically began our ascent. In increments of 50, someone using a felt marker on the sides of the stairs reminded one of their progress to that point. We stopped frequently. Ultimately, we passed that 261st stair and stood on the concrete pad at the base of the lighthouse.

Cape Palliser lighthouse showing the Stairway to Heaven.

WARNING Please take care use these steps at your own risk.

The lighthouse as seen from about halfway up the stairs.

The view from the lighthouse was commanding. A woman with some friends and a group of children pointed out to us where we might find fur seals when we descended from the lighthouse. None of her directions included the parking area below the lighthouse. We soon found out otherwise. Nevertheless, looking down the stairs, it again appeared as a stairway from heaven. Even though gravity was working well, going down was not easy. By the time we reached the base of the stairs, I had thought my knees would pop.
Back on level ground, we decided to walk the short distance to the beach. I stopped there to take some photographs. While I was taking a picture, the woman that gave seal directions to us at the lighthouse called out to the children, essentially saying no, no. The children had run in front of my shot, so I thought she was chastising them for that action. When I lowered my camera, I saw that she was commanding them to stop before they got too close to a seal. Sure enough, there within about fifty feet of me was a fur seal. The seal, lying on its back, raised its head and grunted toward the children. Once sure the children were no longer a threat, the seal lay down again, belly pointing to the sun.

We have seen seals before, but never in their natural habitat. I began channeling my inner David Attenborough, snapping photographs wildly. After several shots, I stepped more to my left, looking for a better angle, stopped and took several more photos. I repeated that motion several times, never getting closer to the seal, just looking for a better perspective. On my final shuffle, the snort of another seal startled me. My inner Attenborough nearly soiled my britches. This snorting seal was about fifteen feet away, hidden in a bedding area amongst several small bushes. As soon as I stopped, the snorting stopped. That seal went back to sunning itself too.

After the startling encounter, we walked back to our vehicle. We drove back along the Cape Palliser Road; we stopped at one of the locations that the woman at the lighthouse said held a fur seal colony. We parked the vehicle and walked down to the beach. Soon we spotted our first seal, lying on a rock. Then we saw several more lying on the grass. Suddenly, it seemed seals were everywhere. We stood there for quite a while, just watching. We also noticed the seals come with their colony odor. It is unmistakable. I am not sure which is worse; the seals’ odor or the Gannets’ odor (see Gannets Everywhere ).

The wake-up stretch.

The eyes opened, but nothing else on her moved. She was very relaxed.

When we tired of watching, we walked back to our vehicle. Once there, Leslie decided to sit down. I decided to walk to a rock formation. I hoped to get a different view of the sea. Instead, my inner Attenborough stumbled across several hidden seals, each providing a surprised grunt as I unwittingly stepped too close. They did provide me with some excellent photo opportunities. Deciding I could not get to my desired vantage point without ending up in the middle of the seal colony, I opted to return to the car.
As I noted earlier, our trip was spontaneous. That meant we had not packed a lunch. When I returned to the vehicle, Leslie suggested we stop at the small food trailer in the almost as small fishing village of Ngawi. That sounded like a great idea to me. On the way back to that village, we saw a sign warning of penguins crossing. We have seen several such signs on our New Zealand travels, but we have yet to see a penguin in the wild.

The small food trailer is right on the beach at the edge of Ngawi. Several people stood at the front of the trailer when we arrived, waiting to order. Leslie chose the fish tortilla while I decided on the cheeseburger. We also each ordered chips (French fries) and fizzy drinks. The lunch cost us about US$16. Not bad, considering the number of chips they gave us could have fed Ngawi for two to three days!
We ate across the street from the trailer, sitting on a bench next to the Ngawi Community Hall. Leslie said the fish tortilla (essentially a soft-shelled fish taco) was the best in the world. My cheeseburger was perfect. Something different was the pickled red beet added to the burger. It took the place of a sweet pickle. As we walked back across the street, Leslie told the two women operating the trailer how much she enjoyed the fish tortilla. That thrilled them to no end.

As Americans, I think our thought of a traditional fishing village includes a marina. In Ngawi, the “marina” was full of diesel bulldozers. The bulldozers and some tractors attach to boat trailers. The trailer tongues are extraordinarily long. The bulldozers back the trailers into the surf to launch and retrieve the fishing boats. It is fascinating to watch. This method of boat delivery to the ocean is the same as what we experienced when we visited Kapiti Island.
On the drive back toward home, I recalled the beautiful view on the bridge over the Ruamahanga River. This time, I parked just on the other side of the bridge. The bridge is a very narrow, two-lane bridge. There is no room for pedestrians. Luckily, there is not a lot of traffic. Leslie and I walked to the center of the bridge. I was able to take several good photographs. At one point, a car driving over the bridge slowed to a crawl to see precisely what I was photographing. Once they saw it was merely a landscape, the sped on across.
We drove back over Rimutaka Pass and arrived home around 16:00. It was a beautiful day trip.

The Ruamahanga River looking toward the Aorangi Forest Park.

View of the ocean from Cape Palliser Road.

This is how fishing boats are launched at Ngawi.

The Pacific Ocean just keeps rolling in.

Waves crash against the opposite side of the rocks.

The green paddocks and hills of New Zealand.

St. Petersburg (Санкт-Петербург)

St. Petersburg, Russian Federation – July 13, 2015

We docked at St. Petersburg, Russia this morning. At breakfast, Leslie and I commented that we would never have guessed we would ever visit Russia, but here we are!
This morning, we were part of orange group #1, our tour group for our visit to the Hermitage Museum. Before we got on the bus, we all had to go through passport control. It was not necessarily a breeze. The immigration officer looked closely at us. She even motioned to my passport photo in which I sported a goatee and then pointed at my now clean-shaven face. In addition to our passports, she also demanded to see our ship excursion tickets. Those essentially acted as our Russian visas. Ultimately, even though she seemed a little cranky, she did stamp both of our passports. We thought it was cool getting that entry stamp.
Leslie, Lorraine, Arlene, and I boarded the tour bus. Leslie and I lucked out and got two of the front seats. That made it helpful for taking photos on the way. It was one of several buses lined up at the cruise depot. By 09:00, we began our journey to the museum. On the way, our guide told us St. Petersburg enjoys only about 60 days of sunshine each year. That is precisely the opposite of Colorado, which enjoys approximately 300 days of sun each year. Our day was nice. It was not until later in the day when we returned to the ship that we encountered some raindrops.

Color on the other side of the international border. The colors are beside the ship. Standing on this side of the barrier with the buses, one is in the Russian Federation.

The business end of our Russian tour bus.

After about 30 minutes on the bus, we arrived at the museum. The Louvre in Paris, France, has long been my favorite museum, but that may be in jeopardy now. At the Hermitage, in addition to the museum, one also walks through an awe-inspiring palace. The other fact that sways me is that one of my favorite paintings is at the Hermitage, The Return of the Prodigal Son by Rembrandt. The only downside is the size of the exhibit area does not comfortably allow for viewing when the museum is crowded.

The green building is our first glimpse of the State Hermitage Museum, also known as the Winter Palace.

The Return of the Prodigal Son by Rembrandt (1663-1669). I got this view as our tour group walked by the portrait on their way to another.

Just before we left the Rembrandt room, the guide gave some insight into my favorite painting by the artist.

When we arrived, our guide shared that we were in luck. We were entering the museum about an hour before it opened to the public. That meant we had many portions of the museum virtually to ourselves. That worked out well for my photography.

The worn, bilingual sign near the entrance.

The museum is just over 250 years old, founded by Catherine the Great. The palace consists of six different buildings. We walked through five of them; the Winter Palace, Small Palace, Old Hermitage, New Hermitage, and the Hermitage Theater. The buildings total over 2.5 million square feet of space. The ornate decorations in each building and the displayed artwork are just incredible.
We entered the museum through the main Winter Palace door facing the Neva River. It took a little while to get our entire group through the turnstiles; however, once we did, we met the very ornate staircase known as the Ambassadors’ Stairs. When an ambassador visited the Tsar or Empress, they ascended the Ambassador’s Stairs. I am unclear on whether the audience took place in the Peter the Great Throne Room or the St. George Hall. Regardless, they were both stunning spaces.

The Hermitage Museum seems to stretch on forever.

Detail of the pediment above the main entrance to the Hermitage Museum.

At the base of the Ambassadors Staircase, a name used in the 1700s.

A marble statue in a niche on the upper portion of the Ambassadors Staircase.

The columns at the top of the Ambassadors Staircase.

The second landing of the Ambassadors Staircase.

A ceiling fresco above the Ambassadors Staircase.

The tour group ascending the Ambassadors Staircase.

A marble statue in a niche along the Ambassadors Staircase.

The first landing of the Ambassadors Staircase.

Marble sculptures near the top of the Ambassadors Staircase.

Our guide explains many of the features of the Ambassadors Staircase.

Departing the upper landing of the Ambassadors Staircase, we entered the Field Marshal’s Room. While it was impressive, it may have been the least remarkable space we saw that day. One may come to that opinion simply because the decorations are quite muted, not so ornate, and over the top, as some of the other spaces in the museum.
Most notable in the Field Marshal’s Room is the massive chandeliers. They each weigh a jaw-dropping two tons; 4,000 pounds! Several members of our group stood under the lights until our guide related that the chandeliers did fall once. That was enough to get everyone to clear the space.

A portrait of Field Marshal-General His Serene Highness Prince Tavrichesky Count Grigory Alexandrovich Potemkin.

The Peter the Great Throne Room was a little more intimate than the vast expanse of the St. George Hall. The throne room had an intricate parquet and wood inlaid floor. The walls were a warm, but dark red. That red echoed in the throne dais carpet and the upholstery of the throne itself, displaying the double-headed imperial eagle on the back, an imposing figure. The ceiling consisted of arches and coffers with hints of gold leaf. It was elegant.

The throne in the small throne room of Peter the Great. The painting behind the throne chair is Peter I with Minerva dating between 1732 and 1734. The columns are made of jasper.

The parquet inlaid floor in the Small Throne Room.

The throne chair. I believe I prefer my recliner…

Leaving the Small Throne Room, we walked into the amazingly ornate Armorial Hall. The amount of gold in the hall defies description. There was so much gold in the room that there was a gold hue throughout.
At one part of the hall, one could see through the doorway toward the throne in the St. George Hall. It is hard to imagine the numbers of staff that must have been required to make this Winter Palace a place to live and receive guests. Had I been alive in that era and in the St. Petersburg area, I am more than confident I would have never been able to set foot in the palace.
Comparing the Winter Palace living areas to the Napoleon Apartment in the Louvre in Paris is like comparing Versailles to a studio apartment in New York City. There is just no possible comparison between the two.

The Armorial Hall. By the way, all that glitters IS gold!

The Capture of Berlin on 28 September 1760 by Alexander Kotzebue (1849) in the Armorial Hall.

The aventurine lapidary in the Armorial Hall. Across the top of the lapidary, one can catch a glimpse of the throne in the St. George Hall.

Some of the golden columns of the Armorial Hall.

A marble sculpture in the Armorial Hall.

Even though we could see the throne in the St. George Hall, there was yet one more room to traverse; the Military Gallery. It is a long, narrow room. It is sometimes referred to as the War Gallery of 1812. The walls have dozens of paintings, all approximately the same size, of war heroes involved in the defeat of Napoleon. The entire tour group made quick work of the visit and moved on the hall.

Another tour guide leading her group through the Military Gallery.

Emperor Alexander I on his steed. The painting is in the Military Gallery. Equestrian Portrait of Alexander I by Franz Krüger (1837).

The bas relief above the door from the Military Gallery to St. George Hall.

The St. George Hall was an immense and massive space of approximately 800 square meters. That translates to about 8,500 square feet. That is more than three times the size of the average American home. A large dais, throne, and canopy dominated the east end of the hall. The throne seemed to be an exact duplicate of the throne in the Small Throne Room, including the imperial eagle. Behind the throne hung a large red banner from the canopy with an equally large imperial eagle. The ornate white and gilded ceiling soared two-stories above the floor.
Leaving St. George Hall, our group wound through some smaller spaces, ultimately stopping in Pavilion Hall. Intimate and two-stories do not necessarily go together, but this space was genuinely intimate. Dominating this hall is the 18th-Century Gold Peacock Clock. The clock is behind a glass covering. The peacock is life-size, as well as the cockerel and the owl. With such large creatures in the clock, one might think the clock face is large too, wrong. The hidden clock face is actually in a small mushroom. The automated birds originally went through a series of movements every hour. My understanding is that the clock now moves only a few times a year. That is to keep from wearing out the mechanical parts. Even though we did not see it move, it was an impressive piece.

The Peacock Clock in the Pavilion Hall dates from the 1770s.

One of our tour group members getting a closeup of the Peacock Clock.

Detail of the mosaic floor in the Pavilion Hall.

A sculpture in the courtyard titled “America.”

View from the Pavilion Hall across the Neva River to the Peter and Paul Fortress.

We ended up in the Old Dutch Masters area shortly after leaving Pavilion Hall. That is where we began seeing painters copying various paintings. They had easels, stools, and drop cloths set up. We quickly saw a dozen or more painters. Our guide shared that it was a big test for the art students through one of the local universities. I could barely take photographs of the paintings; I know there is no way I could copy one with a brush. Their talent was amazing.

This art student was copying Haman Recognizes His Fate by Rembrandt (circa 1665).

Ready to apply the paint at just the right spot.

Another view of the student copying Haman Recognizes His Fate by Rembrandt (circa 1665).

The unknown art student was copying Portrait of an Old Man in Red by Rembrandt (circa 1652-1654).

This view provides an idea of how each artist set up so as to not make a mess.

The tour group went from alcove to alcove, listening to our guide. We entered the display at the far end. That is where The Return of the Prodigal Son hangs, just out of view.

This art student is copying the Holy Family by Rembrandt (1645).

Our next viewing was the Italian Renaissance area of the museum. Below are some of the works that caught my attention. In this area of the museum, we found more art students copying paintings.

Madonna with Child and Two Angels by Paolo di Giovanni Fei (circa 1385).

Another painting on the ceiling near the theater.

A painting on the roof near the theater.

Our guide describing an unknown painting.

This art student was copying The Madonna and Child (The Litta Madonna) by Leonardo da Vinci (circa 1495).

A stop in the Hall of Italian Renaissance Art.

This art student was copying a painting in the Hall of Italian Renaissance Art.

This art student is copying Portrait of a Lady by Lorenzo Costa (circa 1506).

The Nativity by Giovanni Della Robbia an example of 16th Century Italian majolica pottery.

An anteroom and chandelier near the theater.

Another unusual feature of the Hermitage is the Raphael Loggia. It is a relatively narrow hall, but it is around 20 feet tall. Some call the loggia Raphael’s Bible. That is because Raphael painted several stories from the Bible in this loggia.

Detail over a door from the Raphael Loggia.

Detail of the ceiling from the Raphael Loggia.

Below, in no particular order, are some of the other sights we saw in the Hermitage Museum. The narrative continues well below the photos.

A row of chairs in the Small Italian Skylight Room.

An art lover in the Small Italian Skylight Room.

Our guide imparting information in the Small Italian Skylight Room.

Martyrdom of St Peter by Caravaggio (circa 1601).

The beauty of the Small Italian Skylight Room.

The Mystical Marriage of Saint Catherine by Domenico Beccafumi (1521).

Madonna with Beardless St. Joseph by Raphael (1506).

An art student copying an unknown work in the Small Italian Skylight Room.

Death of Adonis by Giuseppe Mazzuola (1700-1709).

Portrait of Doña Antonia Zárate by Goya (1810-1811).

An unknown art student’s copy of Boy with a Dog by Bartolomé Esteban Murillo (circa 1655-1659).

This art student is copying the Repentance of Saint Peter.

An unknown art student’s copy in progress of the Battle Between the Lapiths and Centaurs by Luca Giordano (circa 1688).

Meeting of Joachim and Anne near the Golden Gate by Paolo de San Leocadio (circa 1500).

The Doctor’s Visit by Jan Steen (Circa 1660).

Marriage Contract by Jan Steen (circa 1668).

Fruit and a Vase of Flowers by Jan Davidsz de Heem (1655).

Esther in Front of Ahasuerus by Valentin Lefevre (circa 1675-1699).

This painting of Jesus entering Jerusalem caught my eye.

Adam and Eve (The Fall of Man) by Hendrick Goltzius (1608).

Laocoon by Paolo Andrea Triscornia (1798).

The Hermitage is just like the Louvre in one respect; there is no way one can see everything. We did see many more works of art. When we emerged from the Hermitage, we saw a sea of people waiting to enter. We were glad we went when we did. We walked across the street toward the Neva River, onto our bus, and then back to the ship.

A boat passes by the Rostral’naya Kolonna in the Neva River.

Back on the bus, our guide greeted us all with a Russian chocolate bar. That was very nice of her.

At the cruise terminal, several gift shops were dealing in items designed to catch the eye of tourists. As usual, we found some refrigerator magnets.

After dinner that evening, we all went to a show. The entertainment was a troupe of 14 Russian dancers/singers. Seven band members accompanied them, playing authentic Russian instruments. The entire performance in Russian did not deter us from understanding what was happening. The eye-catching traditional costumes were colorful.

The following day, our canal tour was in the afternoon. After breakfast, it was the same drill through immigration and onto a bus. Our destination was close to the Hermitage Museum. It was very cloudy. The bus stopped so we could all get off. We faced about a two-block walk to the canal boat. Some of the walking was a little dicey, but we all made it safely. While walking, we saw a bride and groom stopping to take photos. Our guide told us it is normal for newlyweds to travel around the city, taking photographs at their favorite locations.

As we finished our walk, it began to drizzle. That did not stop me from taking photos. I kept clicking from under my umbrella. Shortly after the boat pulled away from the mooring, one of the workers brought us a complimentary glass of champagne, my kind of cruise!
Our boat departed its mooring on Moyka Canal. After passing the Japan Consulate, we took a quick right turn onto the canal that is on the east side of the Hermitage Museum. That canal led us to the Neva River. On the Neva, we turned to the west toward the Bolshaya Neva. I believe that means “little Neva” River. We cruised under the Dvortzovyy Most (bridge) and then under Biagoveshchenskiy Most. We made a U-turn back to the east, ultimately going under the Troitskiy Most. One right turn and we were on the Fontanka Canal. Our final right turn took us back to the Moyka Canal and our original mooring.
The bridges over the canals were extremely low. Some only had a total clearance of two meters, about six feet. If one were to stand while passing under, one would definitely lose body parts.

The Round Market building alongside the Moyka River.

View of buildings beside the Moyka River.

Yet another sightseeing boat on the Moyka River. The Japanese Consulate can be seen in the background.

A beautiful old building, the Menshikov Palace, on the Neva River. Today, the palace serves as a branch of the Hermitage Museum.

A view of the Rostral’naya Kolonna column on the Neva River.

Heading toward the Neva River on the Reka Zimnyaya Kanavka. The Hermitage is on either side of the canal.

Looking back toward the Japanese Consulate.

Pedestrian walking near the Amber Palace.

According to Mr. Google, this building is known as the Pediment Genius of Glory crowning science.

A dome on an unknown building as seen from the Neva River.

The Constitutional Court of the Russian Federation.

A fellow tourist capturing photographs from the sightseeing boat.

A view of part of the Peter and Paul Fortress from the Neva River.

Looking back at the Reka Zimnyaya Kanavka. The Hermitage is on either side of the canal.

Some of our fellow tourists on the sightseeing boat.

The main facade of the Hermitage Museum.

The detail on the Troitskiy Bridge over the Neva River.

A commercial building. The sign on the right seems to translate as Megaphone.

One sightseeing boat is entering the Fontanka River while the other is entering the Neva River.

A sightseeing boat preparing to enter the Fontanka River.

A closer view of the Noplasticfantastic building.

The building on the corner houses the Noplasticfantastic store.

Another sightseeing boat passing under the Troitskiy Bridge.

The entry to the Fontanka River from the Neva River.

Detail of a building across the Fontanka River from the Summer Garden.

The tree-lined walk of the Summer Garden.

The Tea House in the Summer Garden as seen from the Fontanka River.

There is not a great deal of clearance under the bridge.

A view of St. Michael’s Castle from the Fontanka River.

A very colorful delivery truck as seen from the Moyka River.

Pedestrians on the Panteleymonovskiy Most.

The detail on the Panteleymonovskiy Most.

The tallest spire of the Savior on the Spilled Blood church was just visible from the Fontanka River.

Pedestrians cross the Panteleymonovskiy Most in front of St. Michael’s Castle.

A not-so-speedy boat on the Moyka River.

Just as we docked, the downpour began. It did not let up until we were back on the bus, of course. On the way back to the ship, we stopped by the Red October souvenir shop. Surprise, we bought another refrigerator magnet. Since there was still time to burn at that stop, I took a few photographs nearby.

Teremok is a favorite Russian stop for pancake type treats.

The top of the poster proclaims “Music of Maxim Aunaevsky.” I believe the name of the production is “Scarlet Sails.”

I do not know what it is, but this building is at the northeast corner of Konnogvardeyskiy Bul’var and Ploshchad’ Truda. Mr. Google says it is Dvorets Velikogo Knyazya Nikolaya Nikolayevich. That doesn’t help me much…

Cars waiting for their left turn signal.

The word at the top of the newsstand states “newspapers.”

When the bus arrived at the cruise terminal, it was about 17:00. Our seating time for dinner was 17:30. After exiting immigration, we discovered a very long line to board the ship. I think part of that was because the ship was due to depart at 17:30. We might have been a few minutes late for dinner that night, but it was no big deal.

Waiting in line to get back on the cruise ships. Earlier in the morning, the buses were on the other side of the barrier on the left.

Even though we spent a night on the ship in the port of St. Petersburg, we were only allowed off the boat if we were on a ship’s shore excursion. We wished we had been able to get off the ship and explore on our own, but it is what it is.
After dinner, I was able to stand on our balcony and take photographs of the Gulf of Finland. One of the highlights was the flood control dam. It is about 15 or 20 miles west of St. Petersburg. There are large motorized steel dams, which close in cases of flooding. At that location, a divided highway traverses under the water. The road is labeled KAO. I believe that is a ring road around the St. Petersburg area.
Just before the flood control dam, I saw a small island. There was a small humanmade harbor in the center. I found out later that this is Fort Kronshlot, built-in 1704 to fortify Russia from other Baltic states.
We watched a little TV in our room and then retired, ready to awake in Helsinki.

Looking at Fort Kronshlot from the west. St. Petersburg is at the far distant horizon toward the left of the frame.

An abandoned building at Fort Kronshlot.

Passing a sailboat flying a Netherlands flag.

Looking back toward an abandoned building on a small island. It is known as Emperor Paul I.

Another view of the odd-looking lighthouse.

An abandoned building on a small island. It is known as Emperor Paul I.

Fort Kronshlot with St. Petersburg in the distance.

Looking south over one of the flood control gates along highway A118.

A sign on the building at the flood control gates. The top portion states, “The complex of protective structures protects the city of St. Petersburg from flooding.”

One of the protruding points at the flood control gates.

View of the barge with the lighthouse in the background.

As best I can tell, the name of the barge translates to “crops.”

A Russian ship. The name may be SIGULDA.

A point at the flood control gates departing St. Petersburg.

Gathering storm clouds without the flare.

The starboard side of the Maersk Norwich.

Lastly, below are random photographs I took as we rode around town on the bus going back and forth from the ship to our tours.