I got into Christchurch from Sydney close to midnight. Seeing the lights of town from the plane was just as cathartic as leaving Sydney. There was instant recognition of areas previously
frequented but about which I had not thought for months. It was like a welcome into a friend's home.
frequented but about which I had not thought for months. It was like a welcome into a friend's home.After eventually being allowed to pass through customs after my mountain bike got the glove test, Walter was there to meet me depite the grumblings of the late hour on the night before our trip. Nowhere is far from anywhere in Christchurch at those hours, so we were to his house before we had even had a chance to catch up. Agnieszka stayed up to greet me and, gracious hostess that she invariably is, poured nightcaps for all of us. It was a welcome into a friend's home.
The next four days were a fantastic trek to some of the best mountain biking sites in a country that is one of the best in the world for that sort of thing. I was hanging out with a good friend but at the same time on a guided tour. Great fun, great scenery, and the sense of that last hoorah.
The New Zealand "mainland" once again did not disappoint, as I hope the photos attest. We spent the first night in Naseby, an OLD town if measured on the scale that Americans , Kiwis and Aussies would be used to. It was established in the gold rush days, a time that paralleled ours in the states, and it looks like it hasn't changed much. A high mountain town, it must be pretty harsh in the winter. Heck it was brisk
in summer, so I would think harsh understates it. It now caters less to goldminers and more to tourists, mountain bikers, and hikers, as it is nestled into national forest land. From the center of town it is only a couple of city blocks to trails. A couple of neat, cozy taverns survive to feed the population, a blend of the locals and the passers-through. We attended one of them after a ride that evening, then more thoroughly explored the trails the next morning after coffees and breakfast and the best-- okay only, but still quite good-- coffee house. We were intending to meet up with the owner of the one bike shop in town as we had arranged when we ran into him at the tavern, but he had managed to cut his foot on the walk home late that night (as he told us later), so he passed on being a guide. My donation to his imbibement may have
been a contribution to his deliquency. So sans local navigator we struck out on our own and covered almost all of the area, to the point that we felt we had pretty much mastered the best of it. Some wicked roller-coaster runs just kept getting more fun as we got to know them better, and there were some long uphill grunts, but they always led to long fun downhill trails. A genuine hoot. As hooked down the open trails and then the roads down into town, we were followed by a pickup. As he pulled alongside, I recognized the park ranger emblem on the truck door. The driver kindly hollered that the park was closed that day due to the high fire risk. Struggling to imagine a spark from a mountain bike starting a blaze, I affirmed that we would not re-enter the forest, and he went on his way.
in summer, so I would think harsh understates it. It now caters less to goldminers and more to tourists, mountain bikers, and hikers, as it is nestled into national forest land. From the center of town it is only a couple of city blocks to trails. A couple of neat, cozy taverns survive to feed the population, a blend of the locals and the passers-through. We attended one of them after a ride that evening, then more thoroughly explored the trails the next morning after coffees and breakfast and the best-- okay only, but still quite good-- coffee house. We were intending to meet up with the owner of the one bike shop in town as we had arranged when we ran into him at the tavern, but he had managed to cut his foot on the walk home late that night (as he told us later), so he passed on being a guide. My donation to his imbibement may have
been a contribution to his deliquency. So sans local navigator we struck out on our own and covered almost all of the area, to the point that we felt we had pretty much mastered the best of it. Some wicked roller-coaster runs just kept getting more fun as we got to know them better, and there were some long uphill grunts, but they always led to long fun downhill trails. A genuine hoot. As hooked down the open trails and then the roads down into town, we were followed by a pickup. As he pulled alongside, I recognized the park ranger emblem on the truck door. The driver kindly hollered that the park was closed that day due to the high fire risk. Struggling to imagine a spark from a mountain bike starting a blaze, I affirmed that we would not re-enter the forest, and he went on his way.Around midday we loaded up and drove across town-- I don't think the
engine got warm-- to the nation's headquarter for curling. The other pride of the town, it is the premier spot for the sport, and apparently popular. After seeing only a single additional car on the road as we negotiated through the sleepy town, Walter and I were both taken aback to find a couple dozen cars outside this aluminum-sided building that lay outside of town past a couple of pastures. Inside it was very professional. Both being rookies, we watched a short introductory video, got some additional tips from the lady who was running the establishment, then took our turns on the lane. Next to us the national team, in their matching gear, practiced, not in the serious, brow-furrowed, sweat-dripping manner of other sports, rather in a jocular, elbow
-chumming way that I think must be more common, certainly more befitting, curling. We recognized the captain of the team from his autographed poster in the cafe where we had eaten. His mother was the barista.
engine got warm-- to the nation's headquarter for curling. The other pride of the town, it is the premier spot for the sport, and apparently popular. After seeing only a single additional car on the road as we negotiated through the sleepy town, Walter and I were both taken aback to find a couple dozen cars outside this aluminum-sided building that lay outside of town past a couple of pastures. Inside it was very professional. Both being rookies, we watched a short introductory video, got some additional tips from the lady who was running the establishment, then took our turns on the lane. Next to us the national team, in their matching gear, practiced, not in the serious, brow-furrowed, sweat-dripping manner of other sports, rather in a jocular, elbow
-chumming way that I think must be more common, certainly more befitting, curling. We recognized the captain of the team from his autographed poster in the cafe where we had eaten. His mother was the barista.Another aspect of Naseby mastered, we still made it about an hour down the road to Alexandra and take in a ride. Remember, nothing is far from anything in this land. Our trail ran alongside a river and by Naseby standards was much less traveled. But is was a good time. With the sun out till 10:30 at night, it was too easy to stay out past dinner time. By the time we got back near town I was famished. We barely made it to a resaurant before they closed. I devoured a big Thai dish until I made myself ill.
Next stop was Queenstown. There must be entire books written about this area, so suffice it to say this was the highlight of the trip. Two days of riding-- one on a designed playground for moutain bikes throughout a forest on the edge of Lake Wakatipu, the second an epic ride through a couple of sheep and cattle stations around the back of a mountain (read huge climb into mountain pass) and past a couple of lakes, less than coincidentally ending up at the aforementioned playground to make a few more passes. We got back to town just in time for me to rent a car, then kicked back at a lakeside cafe with a view of the mountains to take it all in and recuperate. That evening I headed west to Te Anau, while Walter, having to work the day after next, took my bike with his and logged a few kilometers on his journey back to Christchurch, making for an easy drive the following day.
The next morning I was up early--not before the sun, mind you, as it came up around 
5:30, but I only missed it by a couple of minutes-- to join a few others to be picked up by our guide and transported about 90 minutes and through an OLD 1.2 km tunnel into Milford Sound. Though the motorized boat cruise is much more popular, I elected for a kayaking trip. Peaceful and more in touch with the sounds and scenes than a yacht, in retrospect it was a great choice. We paddled up to the foot of one of three waterfalls that pour into this very tranquil body of water, then further along to a small rocky beach for lunch. Fur seals, once near extinction, occasionally can be seen basking on rocks along the shore, and that day was no exception; we paddled within a few feet of a couple of them. Apparently they were males exiled
from the colony that now flourished near the mouth of the sound, biding time until they were old and strong enough to contend for some of the females.
5:30, but I only missed it by a couple of minutes-- to join a few others to be picked up by our guide and transported about 90 minutes and through an OLD 1.2 km tunnel into Milford Sound. Though the motorized boat cruise is much more popular, I elected for a kayaking trip. Peaceful and more in touch with the sounds and scenes than a yacht, in retrospect it was a great choice. We paddled up to the foot of one of three waterfalls that pour into this very tranquil body of water, then further along to a small rocky beach for lunch. Fur seals, once near extinction, occasionally can be seen basking on rocks along the shore, and that day was no exception; we paddled within a few feet of a couple of them. Apparently they were males exiled
from the colony that now flourished near the mouth of the sound, biding time until they were old and strong enough to contend for some of the females.We had chosen a good day. The sites were amazing, and despite being the second wettest place on the planet, there was minimal rain AND minimal wind, another rarity. The sun shone on the snow-covered moutaintops and the paddling was easy.
The next day was just a trip back to Christchurch, a fun solitary cruise with stops for photos and one for a compound just outside of Wanaka dedicated to puzzles. The predominant amount of space went to a lifesize maze, the original structure there. It reportedly takes 60-90 minutes to complete, more than I had to offer, so I milled among the books, smaller puzzles, and optical illusions for just a bit. I was back to Christchurch in plenty of time to join Agnieszka and Walter for a nice dinner out in Sumner.
The next morning it was packing, goodbyes, and departure. A sort of microchosm of the trip in general. And
the mind started to switch to winter, short days, family, and home.
the mind started to switch to winter, short days, family, and home.Photos:
1. Where are the 2014 winter olympics held?
2. Walter in Seven-Mile moutain Bike Park
3. The end of the epic ride, Lake Wakatipu behind.
4. Early on the Queenstown epic ride
5. Queenstown wrap-up
6. Kayaking Milford Sound
7. On the road back to Te Anau
8. The kayaking crew. Oh, what a fiordland!
9. Roman bath house: doing number II?
10. Magestic Mt. Cook over Lake Pukake
I have decided. Having arrived at home and with so many changes and a new year, everything indicates a new chapter. A new blog.
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