Geography Reference
In-Depth Information
Gable in
Mutiny on the Bounty.
“I said, 'Someday in my life I'm going to visit Pitcairn Is-
land'“—wherethe
Bounty
mutineerswoundup—“'andgettoknowthepeople.'Well,last
year I bought a house there.”
WhenBill wasseventy,hecelebrated bybuyingaHarley andputting 65,000miles onit,
crisscrossing the continent. Hisplan istotravel until he's110—“When yourest, you
rest
!”
he says, implying with grim emphasis that the second “rest” is of the “rest in peace” vari-
ety—but his eyesight, failing from glaucoma and macular degeneration, is starting to slow
himdown.He'sphilosophical, though.“Whatwillbe,willbe,butI'llmuddlethrough.I'm
not going to worry about it. If it happens, it happens.” He grins and elbows me, winking
one clouded eye. “Like going out on a date, right?”
Klaus Billep, the chairman, is taking care ofsome club business at the front ofthe room.
(“Hold the microphone closer to your mouth!” one hard-of-hearing oldster in the back ex-
horts him.) The award for traveling the farthest to get to today's luncheon is given to a
bandofhardyclubmemberswhohavejustreturnedfromWakeIsland.Thistinycoralatoll
between Hawaii and Guam is a heavily guarded U.S. missile site, and the military clear-
ances involved in planning a visit make it one of the hardest-to-reach places in the world.
Infact,ofthe141visitorswhomadethetrip,fivewereTCCmemberscrossingoffthevery
last item on their checklist of destinations. Excited gasps and a spontaneous ovation rise
from the room.
Klaus also gives honorable mention to “a gentleman eighty-six years young who drives
all the way from Fresno every year.” Rod Ritchie, sitting on the other side of me, raises his
hands high above his head to greet the applause. “Still among the living!” he crows.
“Age is in your mind,” Rod tells me. “When you're my age, you realize that most of
your friends and colleagues are dead. And I didn't want the trailer behind my hearse to be
filled with money; I wanted to spend it! So I started traveling.” A friend told him about the
TCC, and they started comparing country counts. “That was like a disease he gave me,” he
chuckles ruefully.
Therecertainlydoesseemtobesomethingaddictiveaboutthediseaseofcountrycollect-
ing—some practitioners call themselves “country baggers,” as if entire nations were elu-
sive prey to be stalked and mounted like gazelles. This table is full of men pushing eighty
and ninety, but they're eagerly sharing their latest stories of adventure and peril. Bill took
an Amazon trip from Cuzco, Peru, to Manaus, Brazil, through anaconda-infested swamps
that are the heart of the South American cocaine trade. Rod was trapped in Fiji during the
2000 coup. “Aw, the problem was in Suva,” he says dismissively. “I was way over in Nadi
on the other side of the island.” And still the road calls: Bill wants to see Attu, at the tip of
old Alfred Giese, the oldest Traveler present, will be going around the world on the
Queen
