Rainbow Connection

Who's Been Painting The Sky?

Photographs copyright: DAVID McMAHON

Can there be beauty in a threatening grey sky? Yes, as this series of photographs - taken about ten days ago - will show. I was out in the back yard, trying to divine whether the gloomy sky was a portent of the rain we need so desperately. Behind me, however, the sun in the mid-evening western sky was so bright that it was reflecting off the roof tiles of a neighbouring house. I took a couple of shots of the unusual light shining on the tiles and then a few minutes later a rainbow appeared in the east, so I took the shot again, this time including a segment of the rainbow.

So I had dark grey clouds in front of me in the eastern sky, yet behind me the sun was bright. Did we get a drop of rain? Nope. But I was about to go back indoors when I noticed a second rainbow had appeared, so I managed to get two or three shots before it started to fade.


When I was a kid, I remember being open-mouthed in amazement as my mother explained to me that rainbows are actually doughnut-shaped, but because we generally view them from the earth, all we see is a semi-circular arc.

I remember asking my mother how she knew this. Remember, this was long before the internet, long before Google. But my mum was my Google, because she knew everything there was to know and everything that was important to know and she could explain it to me in three languages, English, Latin and French. So she wasn't fussed about being asked such an irreverent question by an inky little schoolboy. And that's when she told me that as a student, she had once seen a full rainbow from a mountain town in India.

"Will I ever see one?" I asked.

"If you're lucky," she told me.

Later, when I completed primary school, I went to high school at St Joseph's College, North Point, in the Himalayan town of Darjeeling. Our school looked out onto an uninterrupted view of Mount Kanchanjunga, the world's third-highest peak, and during my wonderful years there I saw many majestic sights that drove home the message of Nature's power and beauty. But I never saw a full rainbow.

Then I became a sportswriter shortly after I graduated from university and I travelled constantly, flying to one amazing city after another. But finally, in 1982, I saw a full rainbow for the first and only time in my life. I flew to Kathmandu, Nepal, to get an exclusive interview with the just-retired Bjorn Borg (you can read the story of that helter-skelter trip at Interview with Bjorn Borg) and as the Boeing 737 took off from the airfield of the Himalayan kingdom, I looked out from my habitual window seat and I was blessed with a view of an entire rainbow that I will never forget.

Then in October 1987, my wife took a photograph of me at Niagara Falls. Being the meticulous person that she is, Mrs Authorblog motioned me to move until she was able to take the photograph so that it looked as though the rainbow over the Falls was actually coming out of my head. We often look at the shots from that holiday and I grin and say to the kids: "That was the day Mum found her pot of gold at the end of the rainbow."

But I think Mrs Authorblog has got them brainwashed. She just arches her eyebrows and replies, "Yeah, right," and the Authorbloglets echo her in chorus. One day they'll slip up and say "Yep".

Finding Bjorn Borg In Kathmandu

Scoop Interview With A Shy, Retiring Star

Photograph copyright: DAVID McMAHON

It's the weekend of the Wimbledon finals, so there can be no better time to tell this story.

In January 1983, a young tennis writer looked disbelievingly at his newspaper. Bjorn Borg, having played six consecutive Wimbledon finals, had suddenly retired. Just months earlier, the 24-year-old tennis writer had covered Wimbledon for the first time, watching Borg, with eleven grand slam victories, lose the All-England title to John McEnroe.

Borg then tried to persuade the Association of Tennis Professionals that he needed to cut back the number of tournaments. The ATP said if he chose to do so, he would need to qualify for the grand slams. But Borg baulked at this. He wanted guaranteed entry into the four grand slams. The ATP would not budge. So Borg did the unthinkable and retired.

The young tennis writer blinked in disbelief at the headline in the morning paper. Borg was gone. Literally and metaphorically. He was going from Bangkok to Kathmandu for R&R. Despite the early hour, the journalist rang his managing editor to ask permission to travel to the Nepalese capital, Kathmandu, immediately.

``What are your chances of an interview,'' asked his managing editor.

``Truthfully, about one per cent,'' confessed the youngster.

``Get on a plane,'' said his boss. But that was just the start of the saga ...

Wimbedon referee Alan Mills with Bjorn Borg and John McEnroe.

There were no e-tickets back then, no online reservation system. The journalist scurried to get on the Thai International flight that would be carrying Borg from Bangkok, via Calcutta, to Kathmandu. He might be able to do the interview on the flight. Nope. No luck. The flight was full. There was already a long manifest of standby passengers.

Instead, he booked an Indian Airlines flight later that afternoon. Having cleared Customs in Kathmandu, he went straight to Borg’s hotel, only to be thwarted again. Borg, his girlfriend, his coach and friends had gone to the upmarket Timbertops retreat.

Undeterred, the journalist walked briskly to the Timbertops booking office where a booking agent said she could not possibly divulge confidential information about the resort's clients. The kid explained the importance of his mission. He already knew Borg was at Timbertops. Now he needed to get there himself. Eventually, the booking agent said Borg and his entourage were returning the next afternoon.

The kid asked if he could get a flight to Timbertops. No, said the agent. The flight was purely a courtesy arrangement for Timbertops guests. And besides, the daily flight had already left and returned. But he was given unprecedented permission to board the next morning’s flight and return on the same plane, giving him access to Borg.

He was up at dawn the next morning, hours before the departure time. But he could hear the heavy rain drumming on the hotel roof. That was not a good sign. Sure enough, at the airport he was told that the light plane was grounded because of the weather. Delayed? No, cancelled altogether. Thwarted, he could do nothing but wait for Borg’s return (by bus) to Kathmandu. That night, he missed Borg by less than a minute, arriving at the tennis player's hotel as he and his travelling companions left for a night tour and a meal.

Next morning, half an hour before Borg left the hotel to fly out, the journalist took one last chance, ringing Borg directly. Yes, said Borg, he would do the interview.

The world exclusive was picked up by every international newsagency. But the journalist still meets people who remember his magazine feature about the interview that almost never happened.

Donnay, the brand made famous by Borg's endorsement of their racquets.