I mentioned the Duke of York’s Ball in another thread. There would be very few people on earth who would have any idea what I’m talking about, or be lucky enough to have attended one.

The Duke of York Islands are a smallish group of islands, some 20 miles out of Rabaul, about mid way between New Britain, & New Ireland in PNG. The Rabaul Yacht club held the "ball" on the islands once a year.

The ball was actually an overnight bar-b-que & party, on a glorious coconut palm shaded sandy beach on one of the islands, well away from any villages, in a sheltered cove. It is one of those rare beaches steep too, [deep water right up to the beach], where you can drop a stern anchor nose up to the beach, tie the bow to a coconut palm, & step ashore. Well you can if you have a ladder.

There were 12 yachts side by side nose into the beach, so at least 120 people, & perhaps more. I had 10, including 3 ladies who had arrived in ball gowns & dancing pumps. When the “ball” was explained, off came the shoes & stockings, but it was hitched up ball gowns as we sailed out.

I was amazed at the talent of some singers, & the flute one lady played, on that still crystal clear tropical night, sounded as if coming from the sky.

The next morning we were roused about 6.00 AM by some beautifully sung hymns, from a village church about 300 meters away across the bay. It is one of the old churches built of 2Ft thick coral blocks, & does magical things to sound.

You can miss a lot living in isolated places, but boy don’t some of the unique experiences make up for it. It was a pretty special experience. My only regret was not having someone special to share it with.

What unusual, but really good, [or bad for that matter] experiences have others had?

Dear Hassie,

Thank You for this thread and for sharing your
experience of the Duke's Ball with us.
You've certainly led an interesting life.
I've been to my share of Balls - the most memorable
was held at a Library Conference, in country
Victoria - where the Ballroom was made out
to look like something out of the Arabian Nights
(Scherazade). The Committee was out to really
impress the overseas guests and speakers.
Admittedly - they did a good job.
It was magical. Something that dreams are
made of, it was full-on, no holds barred "putting on
the Ritz," evening. An evening of unashamed extravagance.

Still, I also remember summers by the sea, wind-blown hair,
bare feet, pre-washed denims, turquoise and silver,
winters on the ski-slopes, a cup of hot chocolate,
fire-light and guitar music, a lazy sea lapping gently
on silver sand, sailing from familiar shores, tear-filled
eyes of family and friends, a distant waving of a
hankerchief, until the coming of darkness engulfed
even the sound of sea-gulls.

We all have stories to tell, I guess that's part of the
reason why I love the Mason Williams poem:

"Come my love and we shall wander
All of life to see and know
In the season's lostward rambling
All Things come and all things go

We shall climb the snowy mountains
Sail across the rolling sea
We shall live for one another
I for you and you for me

We'll go down to green grass meadows
Where the cold winds never blow
If we taste the wine of loving
Only you and I shall know

Come my love and we shall wander
Just to see what we can find
If we only find each other
Still the journey's worth the time."

Hi Hasbeen and Foxy, I haven't been to any grand balls like you two have, but I have had magical experiences.

I lived and worked in Darwin in my mid 20's, and us nurses used to 'go bush' in someone's 4 wheel drive whenever we got the chance.

One weekend a group of 5 of us nurses went to camp at a gorge about 600kms from Darwin. It had a beautiful river next to our campsite and not another soul in sight for 3 days. The freshwater crocs never bothered us, and it was too hot to avoid that River.

We played music on the car stereo and danced around our campfire, swam naked, cooked fine gourmet meals over the campfire, and just had a relaxing time.

On our last night we heard a loud roaring noise coming closer and closer, and over the hill came 4 guys on motorbikes.
They were competing in some Darwin to Adelaide outback race.

We made them a meal and they pitched their tents beside ours and we danced all night in our sarongs!
Just as good as any ball...

Dear Suse,

Sounds wonderful!

I've always wanted to travel up to the top-end
and experience some of what you write about.
Hopefully one day I'll get there yet.

Almost makes me want a Motorbike Suse.

I remember times of reflection in various places. I wandered a bit in my younger years, usually work related. I would often just take in my surroundings and watch the activities and such like around me. These have stuck.
Just a couple.
Corrientes, Argentina early morning, enjoying coffee on the bank of the Parana river and watching the activity. For some reason this has remained with me over many years. Peaceful back then.
I can recall looking in awe at the 'Redeemer' in Rio many years ago. This is no humble Christ figure, this is absolute power on display. Not the usual battered and tortured personification looking heavenward but the Christ magnificent looking down on his people. It held my attention for quite some time and has stayed with me.
I am not religious but impressive the 'Redeemer' is.
Too many to write about.
Take it easy.
SD

A motorbike with indigenous airconditioning and no shade? Not likely!

Darwin is aircraft, airconditioning and winter. Best flyover instead.

Been there enough and I reckon that the Lord Mayor has her hands full as a result of the indigenous policies of Rudd and that big redhead PM. Y'know, Julia Whatshername who used to wage the gender and class wars, but went off to live the life of Riley in a $2million bungalow on golden parliamentary super and benefits courtesy of the weary Aussie taxpayer.

Hasbeen, I am surprised you aren't into motorbikes!
Foxy, if you ever get to Darwin, be sure sure to swim at Edith Falls...

Onthebeach dislikes Darwin obviously, but what about the subject of this great thread?

Are you typically going to whinge about labor and women, or comment on some form of 'a ball' you have had in your past?
Or...did you never have any balls :)

Talking about Darwin ...

My sister-in-law's recollections, age 14,
arriving in Australia, from Sweden:

"We emerged into a tropical rain storm at Darwin airport.
It was hot, steamy, and more oppressive than the inside
of an ice-hockey player's jockstrap after a national
final! The sky was deep grey and navy blue shattered every
few seconds by flashes of forked lightning and giant
thunderclaps, rain pissing down, running in great cascades off
banana leaves and drooping green palms and splashing like
mini-waterfalls onto the ground! Exotic, colourful, tropical
flowers were everywhere you looked! All colours of hibiscus
and yellow Alamanda, purple Bougainvillea and scarlet
Poinciana, getting battered to shreds by the downpour."

"And the beautiful smells, like bananas and guavas and
other tropical fruits in the air. When you come from a cold
climate or anywhere for that matter ... when you get out of a
plane at some Tropical place... the smell is probably the
first thing to get to you ... and of course the heat!"

"When we flew out of Stockholm the temperature outside was -
15C. In Darwin it was +39C! It was like walking around or
sitting in a Turkish bath or a sauna! And we were all
dressed like bloody Eskimos, with me in my thermal
woollen dress and knee high fur-lined snow boots! I looked
like I was on my way to join the next Mt Everest expedition!"

"We were in and out of the so-called "cold" showers for
twelve hours waiting for the storm to pass. It was so humid
you couldn't dry yourself, so you're just as wet in or out
of the shower! Is this why they call migrants wetbacks?"

"Eventually the storm broke and we were loaded back into
the plane for our final hop 3000 miles south to Melbourne,
then immediately carted in rattly old buses on a six hour
journey north of there to the NSW border and Bonegilla
Migrants Camp... an ex-Army barracks out in the bush
somewhere in the dry dusty gum-tree country near the
Murray River. It consisted mainly of huge corrugated-iron
hangars ..."

I lived in Darwin and Alice Springs , before cyclone Tracy.
Enjoyed my time in both places.
SD

cont'd ...

"the hangars were partitioned into little units, like
pigeonholes in fact, which is exactly what they were.
Only we were the pigeons!"

"Like the rest of my family, I spoke only a few words of
very stiff, formal 'BRITTISH' which I had learned at
school. So life was challenging for all of us in the
camp, which was like a box of liquorice allsorts. There
were so many people of different races and languages,
cultures, customs and religions that we often had to use
interpreters for our constant communication problems."

"I remember one night when they bussed us all to an old
woolshed about half an hour's drive from the camp to the
local Barn Dance...the big night out for miles around,
which was held on a regular Saturday night basis. The
steam-powered bush band was set up on a stage made of wool
bales and the dance caller was an ancient semi-toothless
sunburnt caricature of a man with crinkly brown leathery
skin and a snaggly yellow smile, proudly bearing
nearly a century of nicotine staining!"

"It was like a scene from a funky old technicolour western!
People stomping around to the local super-band "The Woolly
Bullies" playing their famous rendition of "The Tennessee
Waltz." There was a gaggle of women fussing around the little
food stall in the corner...cheeky brat kids pulling faces
at me and trying to steal cakes...the caller droning out the
next dance steps dressed in his fringed western shirt and
shoestring tie, cowboy hat, boots, and a big shiny cow-horns
belt buckle. I was looking for his spurs but he wasn't
wearing any!"

"I can still recall every detail all these years later.
Such vivid impressions never disappear!"

No Suse, they scare the whatnot out of me.

When I was racing cars a mate used to let me & a couple of other drivers use his machine shop, to make up parts. He did the same for a few bike racers.

One used to tell me how dangerous a car was, as it could roll over on you. This would be while working one handed, with a broken collarbone, a smashed up hand in plaster, or hobbling around on a banged up knee.

I don't ride Ferris wheels, or climb mountains either. I like nice safe sports. I also don't swim naked with crocodiles, although I have showered naked with a couple of pretty dangerous ladies in my time.

Suseonline, "Onthebeach dislikes Darwin obviously"

How you arrive at your opinions is never as puzzling as why you would ever want to remain that way. You would have a fight in a phone booth. There are other ways to get that shot of dopamine, but if it is your habit to get your fix (and attention) through anger and fights so be it. LOL

This movie could have been made especially for you,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LZ35Ar3r2k

C'mon Suseonline and sing along, "Bom, bom, bommmm, I feel pretty..."

You rock, Grrrl and you'd be loving(sic) the feeling gay part.

Hasbeen,
Like you I am rather cautious these days. I reckon I have used up most of my nine lives or whatever the allocation is.
I appear to have missed the dangerous women in showers though. I think it best I do not try to catch up on that one.
Take it easy.
SD

Showers are over-rated Hasbeen.
Northern Territory rivers (inland ones!) are much more fun :)
Freshwater crocs don't bother anyone, but I never swam in the ocean up there, that's for sure.

Onthebeach...charming as ever.
Still no mention of the subject of this thread.

Dear Suse,

Ever try swimming in the ocean naked?

It feels like velvet.

It feels like velvet.
Foxy,
It'd be interesting to know what the Ocean thinks about that. :-)

Dear Indy,

What does the ocean think about ladies swimming
naked?

Well let me tell you that the
ocean boils with excitement so turbulent
that the bodies of these ladies delight in the
sheer pleasure.

I hope that answers your question. :-)

What is it about water that makes ladies want to get their gear off. Just wander down the beach & you can't help but notice.

Some here know I used to run tourist boats. We took up to 250 people a day to the outer reef, where we had installed a large pontoon, & a coral viewing "Sub".

The pontoon had a 9 meter long swim platform, like a duck board on the back of a cruiser, to give easy access to the water for snorkeling.

On a number of occasions I noticed young ladies in bikinis, getting into the water, then removing their tops, either tying them to the duckboard, or handing them to a boyfriend to stow somewhere, before going snorkeling. They would retrieve the top before getting out of the water.

I thought this rather strange, when so many go topless on the beach. I asked one of my hostesses about it one day, knowing she was a topless sunbather.

She said there was no way she would go topless on the pontoon either, but she thought snorkeling topless would be great. Apparently there are places where it is "OK" like the beach, but many places or circumstances where it is not.

I guess we blokes who have always swum topless can't understand. I have often swum naked in fresh water, & in the tropics, always looking for a bath to save drinking water onboard. I have often showered naked on deck on the yacht, when it rained, but no naked ocean swimming for me. I reckon we blokes have bits that might be mistaken for a nice worm by a passing bream, or even worse, a snapper. The idea quite makes my blood run cold.

<the ocean boils with excitement so turbulent>

Broaching?

The idea quite makes my blood run cold.
Hasbeen,
Yes, I'm scared to no end being mistaken for a sea slug by some short-sighted trepang fisherman :-)