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Off to a late start on Saturday afternoon, we arrived in Wanaka around 6:30pm and decided not to bike in to the Aspiring Hut as planned. We enjoyed sizzling fajitas and margaritas in Wanaka, our first Mexican restaurant experience in New Zealand, and then drove out to Raspberry Flats Carpark, the trailhead for the Matukituki Valley. This would be our fourth visit to the Matukituki Valley since we arrived in New Zealand . . . you would think we like it or something. It was already dark enough to need a torch (what the silly Kiwis call a head lamp) so we ignored the “No Camping” sign, locked our bikes to the front wheel rim and set up our sleeping bags in the back of the car.

Our plan to wake up just before sunrise not surprisingly failed and we finally managed to get up, eat breakfast, pack our backpacks and start biking just before 9am. The trail may not be a trail I would ever just ride for the sake of riding, but it sure made the relatively flat track into the hut a short one. We had a few adjustments to make initially with our pack-bike set up. Walking with a big pack is straight forward. Biking with a small camelback is comfortable. But biking with a big pack is somewhat of a challenge. The back of my helmet kept hitting the top of my pack and standing up on my bike to better absorb rocks or bumps was pretty much out of the question. It also totally screwed with my center of balance, throwing my weight way over my handle bars which wasn’t very desirable for going downhill. However . . . we had a lot of fun doing it, slightly enjoying the worried look that would overcome the cows as we passed.

We arrived at the hut a little out of breath and pretty sweaty but we had barely begun what we had set out to do for the day. We quickly downsized to one pack with rain jackets and lunch, tossed our bikes in a grove of trees to hide them not from bike thieves but from the kea, or mountain parrot who enjoys eating rubber, and changed gears to begin our assent up to the Cascade Saddle. Cascade Saddle is the crossing between the Rees-Dart Track and the Matukituki Valley and usually ascended from the Dart Hut as a side day trip. The hike in to just the Dart Hut takes at least two days and seeing as we only had two days to spare we chose the one day straight up the mountain option.

From the hut we started off on a steep but hands-free trail in beech forest and before we knew it we had reached bushline and were looking down into the narrow valley we had just ascended. As a side note, most tracks in New Zealand are marked by orange arrows nailed to trees when you are in the bush, or orange posts when you are above bushline. It’s not the Yellow Brick Road down here, it’s the Orange Post Track. We had prepared ourselves for the section between bushline and the ridge which we would have to reach before descending to the saddle itself. The shortest distance between the valley floor and the saddle was a straight line up a giant rock wall, so to access the saddle the trail had to skirt around it entirely. But we may as well have been scaling the rock face because each orange marker was directly above the previous. Switchbacks (or zig-zags as they like to call them down here) did not exist on this track. But I don’t want it to sound like we weren’t enjoying ourselves. It may have kicked our butts and we may have been breathing way too hard, but I still had enough energy and pizzazz to do a little “Pylon Dance” when we reached the pylon marker at the top of the ridge. It was here, at the pylon, that we realized what a treat we were in for. Matukituki Valley was behind (or below) us, the Dart Glacier was starting to appear and Mt. Aspiring continuously fought the clouds that tried to envelop it. But we still had another hour ahead of us before we would reach the saddle so we trucked on . . . and it was totally worth it!

My words won’t do it justice but what we saw, or experienced, at the saddle was truly breathtaking. There was a strong wind too, which really did seem to take my breath away. So it literally, and figuratively, was breath-taking. We were standing on a cliffs edge that dropped straight down to the Matukituki Valley. In the distance Mount Aspiring’s snow covered summit peaked through the clouds. On the other side of the saddle we stood at eye level with the entire Dart Glacier, blue ice and all. All we could do was spin around in circles, attempting to digest the view in every direction.

We spent about a half hour at the saddle before starting back up to the ridge and then down down down to the hut where we spent a quiet night hobbling around, playing cards and reading with just a handful of other trampers. We woke up with tight legs and took the morning in the hut to drink a few rounds of coffee, eat a huge pot of muesli and read in front of the hut’s huge windows that faced up valley before getting back on our bikes for the descent down the valley and through the cattle to the carpark, homeward bound from another @$$ kicking and inspiring New Zealand weekend.

View March 2009 :: Cascade Saddle Photo Album

I started this book about two weeks ago and simply haven’t had the time or energy to dig too deep into it. I had only read about 80 pages before this past weekend and had to keep reminding myself what was going on each time I picked it up. However, I picked it up again last night and just finished it.

This book came to my attention as we have been delving a bit into the idea of traveling to India at some point in the future, as well as a recent viewing of Slumdog Millionaire. Although a piece of fiction, it explores the real-world modern day India wanting to grow up, and catch up, with the ways of the West. The book is delivered through the eyes of one man trying to make something of himself in sea of men trying to do the same thing. It was a great first read into the depths of a modern day India as it struggles to find itself in the World.

I could probably measure the amount of free time I’ve had down here in New Zealand by the amount of times I’ve been able to pick up a book in the afternoon or evening. But this week I read a single chapter, which would have been a lot if I were back in Idaho, but is nothing for the roll that I’ve been on down here. It is an obvious sign of busyness. While BJ has spent most of the days at his little desk in our bedroom which looks out onto a patio, I’ve been spending the mornings at my desk (um . . . the bed) and my afternoons at the winery. At the winery we are preparing for vintage which means washing, sulfuring, moving, stacking and washing more barrels. There is still a lot to be done but it’s not even close to being busy yet. Once the grapes arrive, it will be non-stop. My little biceps are getting a good workout and it has been really fun to be working outside. In a funny way, this type of physical work is almost meditative.

We were able to sneak out for a “date” last night and enjoyed an evening of swimming at the pool, dinner at a Japanese restaurant, hot chocolate and coffee at Patagonia Chocolates, and a movie and the Queenstown Cinema. We made a New Year’s resolution this year to go on more official dates but I don’t think we really realized how many “dates” we actually already go on. We spend most of every day in the same room, even if we are working and talking to different people over Skype, doing the same outdoor activities, and eating the same meals together . . . so it’s hard to associate an evening at home cooking a meal or running into town for dinner, a movie, or a beer as a date instead of the continuation of our day together. But the truth is that we are super lucky to not have to make plans to see each other. BJ summed it up well last night and said “I think most couples go to different offices during the day, meet up with their friends at the gym or for a beer, and then come home to their wife or girlfriend. But you’re my friend too so we get to see each other a lot more.”

I also wanted to share our condolences with those who were close to skiing hero and role model Shane McConkey, who died yesterday during a tragic ski-basing accident in Italy. We ran into Shane less than a month ago in Arrowtown while he was here in New Zealand on his way to base jumping in Milford Sound with fellow basejumper Miles Dasher. We didn’t “know” Shane but share our memories of him and what struck me as his very calm and sincere persona. Rest in peace.

We spent last weekend on the southern tip of the South Island in an area called the Catlins. We were expecting a series of small towns with cottages, shops and cafes lining the ocean like something you would find along the Oregon coast. But what we found was much more deserted but also so much more enjoyable. There were plenty of places to stay but no grocery stores and only a couple places to eat. It was a good thing we finally read Lonely Planet’s description of the area about an hour before we arrived and decided to stop at the only grocery store we could find . . . basically the equivalent to a 7-Eleven. So we stocked up on New Zealand style mac and cheese, a handful of apples, some cereal and dried milk, and continued on our way.

We camped on either end of the Catlins, the first night at Curio Bay and the second at Kaka Point, and saw basically everything there is to see in between. It felt a little like being in Yellowstone minus all the people and the complete opposite terrain . . . so maybe it wasn’t at all like Yellowstone. But there were sites to see or walk to about every 15 to 20 minutes of driving and most of them entailed a 20 to 30 minute walk to go see. Here are some of the highlights . . .

Curio and Porpoise Bay: This is where we spent the first night and morning. It’s home to and a very popular spot for watching the endangered yellow-eyed penguins, sea lions, and frequented by dolphins . . . but we didn’t see any. The waves were cool though.

Slope Point: This is actually the southernmost point on the South Island but you wouldn’t guess it by looking at it. We walked 20 minutes through pasture land to a cliff’s edge where there was a small yellow sign pointing north “5140 km to the equator” and south “4803 km to the South Pole.” For some reason, even though we’re at the 46th parallel, it didn’t click until then that we are still SO far away from the South Pole.

Waterfalls: Well we went to two waterfalls, but for the life of me I can’t remember what they were called. I know that one was on the left side of the road and the other on the right. We were surprised by the color of the water. It almost looked like apple juice gushing over the rock and very similar to the tannin colored water in Milford Sound.

The Lost Gypsy Gallery: This was one of the highlights of the weekend. Even Lonely Planet claims that it may be the reason to come to the Catlins. It’s a bus that someone has expanded into his yard as an enormous electronic and mechanical workshop. He’s spent his time making things that move just for fun . . . like a piano where each key activates a different electronic device or a number of gadgets that you wind until they do something like . . . move. All I can say is that he’s had a lot of time on his hands and it thoroughly entertained us for hours.

Cathedral Caves: A hike through private land that we had to pay a small fee to enter led down to a wide beach. At the end of the beach and only at low tide, you can enter one of two caves that are joined at the back.

Nugget Point: This was probably our favorite spot . . . crashing waves, steep cliffs, sea lions, lush covered rocks and a sunshiny day! See top image.

Surat Bay: It was a last minute decision to check out Surat Bay but a friendly neighbor told us there were loads of sea lions and we shouldn’t miss it. It was here that we experienced the ways of the dominating sea lion . . . who woke up from a nap, scooted his enormous body over to another sea lion who was sleeping, bit his neck, moved him out of his way, and laid back down for a nap in his place. The not-so-powerful sea lion just sat there for a while looking at his foe’s bamboozlement.

We explored a few new bike rides as well last week. Skipper’s Canyon is a long downhill ride followed by a long ascent up a dirt road. It was a fun trail despite the amount of cow and sheep poo that we found caked on our bikes and ourselves after the ride. The second new ride was in the town of Alexandra on our way back from the Catlins. It was mostly flat, following the Clutha River, but reminded us of the sandy rocky trails with glorious patches of singletrack in Utah and Colorado.

This week has already started out as a busy one. BJ has been glued to his computer for most of the day, only emerging for air when I’ve placed food in front of him or for dinner. I, on the other hand, have been spending the mornings cranking away for VR Interactive and the afternoons at the winery. I suppose you could gauge the type of work, fun but physically demanding, I’ve been doing at the winery based on how dirty I’ve been when I return home. Both BJ and I agree that a bike ride is in order soon but are hoping we can spend these days catching up for a more relaxed end of the week and upcoming weekend.

Just a few memories from BJ’s birthday night . . .

Since BJ had to work for most of the day yesterday, we went all out for the evening. We spent about three hours at a swanky restaurant in town called the Botswana Butchery. It started off with exotic cocktails and venison Carpaccio, followed by a bottle of wine and two entrees . . . BJ ordered seared tuna and I ordered the duck . . . yummy. The dishes looked so tiny when they arrived but we were plenty full by the time we had finished and especially after our chocolate tart for dessert. The waiter, who happened to be from Vancouver, Canada, came over by himself with a candle in the dessert and sang a very quiet happy birthday to BJ. But the best part about the song was that our waiter didn’t know BJ’s name so when it came time for the part in the happy birthday song he just filled it in with “Happy birthday to the guy with the shirt.” Classic!

It was then off to Pog Mahones, a local Irish pub that was partying the night away for St. Patty’s day. We made our way to the front of the dance floor to see one of our favorite local cover bands . . . the GC’s . . . and stayed there for the rest of the night. We didn’t realize what time we came home last night (or, more accurately, this morning) until our roommate Ali told us she heard us come in at 4am! I can’t remember that last time I was out that late. Needless to say, we have wasted today (BJ’s birthday back in the states) away with a little work, lots of coffee and a few naps. Our roomies have invited us to our living room for an evening of watching as many episodes as possible from the latest season of Heroes . . . I can’t think of anything I’d rather do . . . sometimes you just need a good session of crap tv.

As my mom and stepdad left town last week our weather seemed to change instantly. No offense mom and Steve, but I think you took the rain with you. We spent Saturday afternoon at a few local events. The first was the Queenstown Aerofest where paragliders, wakeboarders, and sky divers showed off their skills in the air above the Queenstown beach. The second was the Arrowtown Street Party where we drank local beer, ate local food (we sampled our first “cheese roll” which is basically just a piece of white bread rolled around a piece of cheese and grilled a.k.a. grilled cheese sandwich), and watched local musicians and fire dancers twirling fire hula hoops and whips. It was all pretty entertaining.

We woke up early the next morning, loaded our backpacks in the car and headed up the lake toward Glenorchy to hike along the Dart River. The Rees-Dart Track is a popular 5 day track with a side day-hike up to Cascade Saddle. We didn’t have enough time to complete the entire circuit and hope to get up to Cascade Saddle at some point, so we decided to just get a taste for the Dart River and hike in and out on the same track. The forecast called for two “fine” days in a row and we debated camping under the stars but then remembered our last experience with a few thousand sandflies and decided to spend the night in a hut. We started out our hike behind a group of 30 who were heading just 20 minutes up the trail to catch the Dart Jet Boat. The short walk was part of their “Safari Package” which also included a 4 wheel drive tour to the end of the road (the same section of road that we drove in our family wagon). We heard the tour guide yell out to the group to “please stop and take photos as walking and taking photos at the same time can be dangerous.” We were excited to leave the group behind and continue down the trail on our own. The track followed the Dart River for a while before climbing up and over a steep bluff. It was such a steep drop off that we felt like we could have jumped directly down to the river from the top of the bluff. We took our time on the track and at one point spent about a half an hour trying to capture a bird’s song on our camera. BJ also discovered the “foliage” setting on the camera making for some very brilliant photos this time in the rainforest.

We arrived to an almost empty hut and were relieved to be staying when the sandflies started to swarm. Taking advantage of a quite hut, we took some time to read and quickly fell asleep for about two hours! We were groggy from our afternoon nap and shook it off by heading further up the valley on what turned into a two hour stroll. We ran into a very skinny bridge that left the main trail and provided access to the other side of the Dart River. I walked across to see if there was an actual trail on the other side and found that the bridge ran right into an enormous boulder. You either had to climb up and over the boulder or down a very sketchy construction ladder that was sort of attached to the bridge. We were puzzled as to why they decided to put a bridge there and not over the handful of streams that we had forded earlier in the day. Not until we started walking back to the hut did we run into two hunters who had been searching the forest on the other side of the river all day unsuccessfully looking for deer.

Our evening in the hut was quite loud with the help of four young American girls whose high pitched giggles weren’t very fitting for our idea of a quiet night of cards, chocolate, and books. Damn, we are getting old.  But we did make a few evening-long friendships with a couple Kiwis and two other Americans from the Bay Area. It’s hard to make the switch from the solitude and serenity of the track to the social scene in the hut . . . but we sure do appreciate not being eaten alive. We hiked out the same way we came in, stopped in Glenorchy for a bowl of potato wedges and a couple beers and returned home by late afternoon to cook up a few, what BJ referred to as Dolly Parton sized, chicken breasts and watched an episode of New Zealand’s always entertaining Flight of the Concords.

BJ turns 33 today . . . Happy Birthday to my best friend and the love of my life. I don’t think it’s felt like much of a birthday for him yet as he has been glued to his computer in meetings for most of the day. We’ll get out this afternoon to celebrate with the rest of the town with green beer and some good ol’ Irish music. Is it me or is it funny that the entire world seems to celebrate Saint Patrick’s Day . . . maybe it’s just a good excuse for another drinking holiday . . . but it sure does make for a fun birthday.

On yet another visit to the bookstore on a Queenstown afternoon, I stumbled across this book and started reading the first few paragraphs. Now, of course, I’ve known that Lance had this book out there for quite a while now, but I had never really thought that I’d pick it up. Yet, there was something in the first two paragraphs that peaked my curiosity…the arrogance! Although Lance is a very proud man, he starts to grow on you, and you even start to realize that we should all be a bit more self-confident as we take on life!

Now, if you are looking for something extremely deep with earth-shattering realizations about life, this really isn’t it. However, it IS an incredible account of how a remarkable athlete in an “unknown” sport (to Americans) fought against cancer and emerged with a new purpose in life.

We all know the general story of Lance Armstrong, his battle with cancer and his multiple wins of the Tour de France. Surprisingly, the history and knowledge of Lance’s early days were a fairly close mirror to my own. Although not a champion cyclist, I felt like I actually had a childhood similar to Lance’s – all the way down to the Hamburger Helper (thank’s mom!).

Cancer was also a long overdue topic that I was glad to gain a little knowledge of during this read. You’d think that having lost so many loved ones in my family to that ugly disease, that I’d have picked up at least something along the way. Even though the book only touches surface level items of cancer as Lance takes it on, it opened up my eyes to so much that I should have already known.

And, of course, the book was extremely motivating to get out and ride the bike. The day after finishing the book, we went out for one of our favorite local rides, Skyline to Fernhill…and I’ve never ridden that uphill as fast as I did that day!

Prepare yourself . . . this is a long one. My mom and stepdad arrived a week ago and although I feel like they just arrived, we really covered a lot of ground . . . so much that I didn’t have a chance to write until they left town.

As I cleaned up the house and prepared a room for my mom and stepdad to arrive on Friday afternoon, my roommate Ali gave me a nervous smile and said “I may be in labor.” She had somewhat expected to be early (she was originally due March 17th on BJ’s birthday) but we couldn’t help but laugh about the timing with my parents showing up in just a few hours time. I was so excited for my mom and stepdad to come to town but realized I hadn’t warned them that there would possibly be 6 ½ in the house instead of just us 6.  When they arrived I could quickly see the excitement in my mom’s eyes and the slight look of terror in my stepdad’s. We quickly moved them into their room and I suggested that we head downtown for a beer and dinner to welcome them into town and to get out of Steve and Ali’s hair as they timed her contractions. During dinner at Fishbone, we got a text from Steve that they were heading to the hospital and just 4 “easy” hours later we got a second text that said they had given birth to a baby boy, Tyler Robert Thomas Hanrahan. We met Tyler two days later in the hospital . . . welcome to the world Tyler!

While BJ worked on Saturday, my mom, stepdad, and I explored Queenstown, the Saturday craft fair and my favorite coffee shop, Vudu. We returned home to pick him up for a little afternoon wine tasting at Peregrine and Gibbston Valley wineries, a quick visit to watch a few people bungee jump, followed by a film in the Arrowtown Cinema where we watched Man on Wire, a documentary on a French street performer who illegally rigs and walks across a wire spanning between the two towers of the World Trade Center. We returned home to what would become the norm for the week . . . a little more wine and a lot of conversation until way past my bedtime.

We triple checked the forecast before agreeing on a general plan for the week. Unfortunately it called for rain, cold temps and even snow! There is really only one place to look forward to in the rain . . . Milford Sound. We packed our rain jackets and warmth, made a quick visit to the hospital to see Ali, Steve and Tyler on the way out of town, and drove straight to Milford where we had reservations on a Mitre Peak Boat Cruise, one of the smallest boats that cruises the fiord. We checked in and found out that so far we were the only 4 that would be on the boat and that the company actually required at least 6 people to book in order to sail.  So we quickly got to work attempting to recruit two more people for our boat and luckily just 5 minutes before departure time we got the thumbs up and hopped aboard. It had been raining most of the day so far causing thousands of waterfalls to pour into the fiord, but just as we set out the rain stopped almost completely. It was just about perfect. Although we couldn’t see the tops of the mountains the clouds, mist and waterfalls were spectacular and easily made up for it. We ventured out into the opens waters of the Tasman Sea and had to hang on tightly as the boat bounced and crashed over waves, making for a very exciting few minutes laughing about the morbid thought of the captain falling overboard and being stuck out at sea. Just as we turned around to head back in the rain started up again and we spent the remainder of the trip, including a dunk under a massive waterfall, under a covered area on the boat. We experienced the best weather possible in Milford Sound and celebrated with a mandatory beer at the one and only bar in Milford.

We drove back to Te Anau from Milford, my mom shooting photos around every bend, where we had reserved a room and a campsite for the night at a Holiday Park. As my mom and stepdad have toured the South Island, my mom found herself constantly rolling the window down and sticking her head and camera out to snap a quick shot of something beautiful. She took so many photos from the passenger seat of the car that she unintentionally began a collection called “Photos from the Road.” Each photo usually contains at least a portion of the car, window, pavement, or fence line along the road somewhat encroaching on, yet another, beautiful New Zealand scene. We checked in to the Holiday Park in Te Anau and while BJ and I set up out tent, my stepdad decided to turn on the small space heater in their very cold, very tiny cabin. We could smell the burning as we walked back over to meet them and come to find that the heater was burning a few small markings in the carpet. We put on our Good Samaritan hats and, instead of covering up the burn with a small carpet runner, we took the fried heater to the front office to tell them what happened. The front desk staff gave us a very disappointed look and told us they would assess the damages in the morning. Apparently they thought we burned the carpet on purpose and they were going to do their best to make us pay! We went to dinner, dismissed our frustration with the Holiday Park, and spent the rest of the evening in the communal kitchen playing many hands of Gin Rummy and keeping watch for the “Carpet Burner Killer,” aka the front desk staff.

We woke up in Te Anau to a cold bite in the air and snow capped peaks in all directions. We planned to dedicate much of the day to seeking out a few good fishing holes for my stepdad. First stop was on the river side of the Control Gates at Lake Te Anau. While he fished, my mom and I went on a short hike through the rainforest along the Kepler Track and BJ read his book in the sun. My stepdad had a couple bites but was quickly learning just how difficult fishing is in New Zealand. I suppose the country is world renowned as a fishing destination because of the challenge it poses . . . they don’t call it “catching” for a reason. We continued on down the road back to Queenstown, stopping in the town of Athol at Stu’s Orgasmic Fly Shop for a little advice, and hit up a number of different well known holes along the Mataura River. We could see the huge trout just hanging out below the surface and watched as my stepdad’s perfect cast floated a fly directly over the trout. But no bites . . . not even a little nibble. It’s as if they were laughing at us for even attempting to trick them. While my stepdad continued to test the trout, my mom, BJ and I kept ourselves thoroughly entertained by taking close up photos of flowers and bees, reading and building small cairns along the water’s edge.

We had contemplated spending a night in the Aspiring Hut up the Matukituki Valley the following night but the combination of the rainy forecast, lack of time, and a snoring habit helped us change our plans to just a day hike up to the Rob Roy Glacier. The first section of the walk is out in the open, along pasture land, and the sideways blowing rain had us drenched in no time. BJ and I were pretty willing to turn back to the car but my mom encouraged all of us to keep going. Once we crossed the river we thankfully found tree shelter along the track and continued up to the glacier. Since my mom and stepdad had only seen Franz Joseph Glacier from distance on the west coast, they were really excited when the trail ended just below the calving Rob Roy Glacier. It was completely worth the initial dousing of rain! Of course as we returned to the car the rain softened and the clouds lifted so that my mom and stepdad could get a feel for why the Matukituki Valley is one of BJs favorite places in New Zealand. That evening we dined at a small Thai restaurant in Wanaka where we happened to run into our friend Smiley, who we hadn’t seen since Brad and Gretchen were in town. He joined us while we ate and, being an avid fisherman himself, reassured my stepdad that the New Zealand trout are very smart fish. As we drove back over the Crown Range to Queenstown we encountered the worst of the forecast . . . It was actually snowing on top of the pass. There was barely a dusting of snow on the road and normally, like all winters in Jackson, we would have cruised on through at high speed, but I felt out of my element as if I had never even seen snow before. I quickly threw it into 1st gear, white-knuckled the steering wheel, and clenched my teeth as we inched over the pass in our two wheel drive family wagon. It’s funny to think about now.

We woke up the following morning to dark clouds, a little rain, and snowcapped mountains around Lake Wakatipu. I cooked Breakfast Pie (bacon, mushrooms, onions, eggs, and cheese, all under puff pastry), we drank lots of coffee and even got in a group video Skype call in to my little sister Anni who was hard at work, like always, at UCSB. But this only delayed us until about noon when we finally decided to face the weather and get out of the house. We drove the winding lake road up to Glenorchy to fish the Caples, Diamond Creek, and Rees River. We, of course, started out the afternoon with a very necessary cappuccino at the Glenorchy Café and then made our way to the Caples Trailhead. We had assured my stepdad that it was just a 5 minute stroll to the bridge, but after 15 minutes, realized we had quite a ways to go yet. He backtracked towards the car to fish an area that had caught his eye while my mom, BJ and I ventured on a bit further to the bridge we had remembered. Thankfully we did not see as many fish as we had expected . . . my stepdad made a wise choice but still encountered the same smart trout of New Zealand. After a cold day (I was hiking in long johns, my puffy jacket, and a rain jacket), we returned to Queenstown for my parents last night in town and went straight to the Cow for a yummy warm pizza dinner. It was hard to believe our time together was coming to an end and we prolonged saying goodbye by spending another late night catching up on life, work, my stepdad’s partial retirement, and looking at photos from Fiji. As my mom and stepdad departed yesterday morning, I felt like they had just arrived but looking back over photos and remembering funny moments all over the southland it is clear that we really packed a lot in to their limited time in the country. We decided that if we aren’t back home in a year, they would come visit us again wherever we are. I plan to hold them to it!

Unlike last week at the winery, my work this week has been almost therapeutic. I spent two afternoons in the small vineyard located next to the winery. It’s the only vineyard that the winery has in Gibbston Valley as the rest are located just down the road in Cromwell, in a more open landscape with typically warmer temperatures. It is also the only Riesling vineyard in Gibbston all together. Because of the cooler weather that has hit Queenstown this summer, my job involved thinning out the vines, leaving only one bunch of grapes on each stalk where usually three or four bunches grow. Once the fruit actually ripens, my work this week will hopefully result in fewer but better grapes. Although a bit tedious . . . snip, snip, snip . . . I have really enjoyed being in the vineyard. When my back started to hurt from bending over the whole time, I just sat in the dirt and scoooched down the row instead.

We returned with our mountain bikes to Fernhill Loop on Tuesday afternoon. This time we completed the entire loop, which was quite a bit longer than we expected, involving a handful of hike-a-bike sections. But when we reached the top, we were overlooking Queenstown and the lake in the evening light. Not all of the descent was rideable but it was a long one and well worth it. Once again we found ourselves in a few really dark sections of forest, making it feel like much later in the evening. The trail spits out at a terrain park with huge jumps and high bridges. While we didn’t attempt anything big, BJ got some air on the sections of trail that went around the really big features.

Instead of going for a bike ride yesterday evening we went out to dinner . . . an equally toning and energy boosting feat, right? We modestly ordered two sushi rolls because we weren’t that hungry, but we had our work cut out for us when the unagi roll was delivered. It was by far the largest sushi roll I have ever eaten. Normally you can’t distinguish the shape of the creature that you are eating at a sushi restaurant, but this time it was as if they sliced the poor guy in half, dipped it in some sauce, and laid it on top of our roll. Delicious, but quite a mouth full.

As a side note, I had a first real wave of missing our not-so-itty-bitty-kitty back home this week. We were eating ice cream one evening on the couch and I had a vision of Salsa sitting somewhat patiently next to me, watching my spoon during every bite, and occasionally making a gentle swipe at it. Ice cream, along with Ritz crackers which Jean recently informed us about, is his favorite food. Here is a photo Shannon sent me from a night that Salsa slept over at their house. He was most comfortable in their bathroom sink apparently.

Looking out our living room window over a sun filled day on Lake Wakatipu and the Remarkables mountain range, it’s hard to remember just how rainy it was a few days ago. The weather comes and goes here so quickly and so intently. One minute we are watching the trees start to change color and commenting on how short the summer was and the next minute we are lathering on the sunscreen and complaining of the heat. It’s a typical New Zealand summer.

We got back on our bikes this weekend and discovered two new trails in the area. The first, called Fernhill Loop, may actually take first place as our favorite Queenstown ride. It’s shaded by beech trees the entire way, sometimes shading it so much that it is hard to see, and winds slowly around the hillside from the gondola. Although a loop trail, we turned around at the top to ride right back down what we came up. Next time we will complete the loop. The down was, of course, the best part . . . not super steep but fast and flowing. Local bikers seem to take pride in the number of features in a trail instead of the length of a trail. A lot of the trails that we have found are really short but filled with features like wooden bridges, ramps, jumps, and short banking turns. Although we’ve enjoyed these types of rides and features (I admit I’ve only tried a handful of these features because most of them scare the crap out of me), there’s nothing like a mostly straight, fast, flowing section of single track where you don’t have to worry about what’s coming around the next corner.

Our second bike excursion for the weekend was a haul up Coal Pit Road to a trail called Water Racetrack. We took our time climbing the steep-as road to the saddle and then followed the Water Racetrack out and around a section of mountain that sits behind the Remarkables. It really gave us some perspective on how much open undeveloped land there is down here. Although a relatively easy ride out the track, we had it handed to us on another steep climb to the ridge, followed by a huge descent all the way to the car. I only ended up stuck in a bush once . . . this was, of course, after BJ had been thinking to himself “damn, Lisa’s going for it.”

But our weekend wasn’t all about biking and sunshine. We spent the majority of Sunday morning and afternoon watching the rain pour down, eating breakfast and reading on the couch with our roommate Ali. All three of us finished our books that day and BJ and I “celebrated” by going into town and buying some more books. We’ve never read this much in Jackson . . . New Zealand is really turning us into nerds.