riverECHO

A few things have changed since we arrived in southwest Australia. We sleep cuddled up in sleeping bags instead of sprawled out with the van doors open and our feet hanging out the back. We’ve found huge forests to camp in and awesome single track mountain biking trails. And we get to play and relax on the weekends instead of trying to cover a bunch of ground to the next town. We’ll be in the southwest for about four weeks until we will point it back east and drive across the Nullarbor (you got it . . . “no” “trees”) to Melbourne to meet up with my sister Shalyn and her husband Randall.

As we drove through a very rainy downtown Perth, it didn’t take us long to move along to the next artsy hip town of Fremantle. The cafes, one of which we visited every day, pubs, used bookstores, and weekly craft markets kept us entertained for a few days. But as the weekend approached we decided to head to the hills and seek out the local mountain biking trails. We found two awesome trails, Marrinup and Turner Hill, just outside of a town called Dwellingup, where we set up camp at a free campground for a few days and had our first campfire since we’ve arrived in the country. We’ve been camping our way around Australia but for some reason it hasn’t really felt like camping until we had a campfire.

Slim needed a bit of a tune up so we had to spend our short work week in the big town of Bunbury. But to our surprise, Bunbury was a pretty cool little town. Our camp was surrounded by water, the Indian Ocean on one side and a lagoon on the other, and there were tons of rabbits. Apparently that rabbit proof fence that runs north to south through Australia didn’t work very well.

After the short week, we made our way up to a place called Wellington National Park where we’ll spend the next couple of days on another series of mountain bike trails at Leonard Hill. The national park is one big Jarrah (a type of tall eucalyptus tree) forest. We are camped below these huge tall trees at Potters Gorge, which may just be my favorite campground so far. It reminds me of camping in Yosemite, minus all the granite cliff walls.

Eucalyptus trees are fire tolerant so when fires spread through the area, they leave their trunks pitch black and their leaves green. A couple of the mountain bike trails we’ve been on weave right through forest that has recently burned. The colors are stunning . . . black trunks against the bright green new growth along the forest floor.

It’s still hard to believe that it’s Thanksgiving. Jean is cooking up a turkey and oyster stuffing at our house in Victor for her sister and family and apparently our fat cat, Salsa, wasn’t going to miss out on the feast and brought in his own mouse to eat under the table. My mom, stepdad, and Anni are meeting up in Sequoia National Park and from the sounds of it, might end up at a Mexican restaurant for dinner. I also just chatted to my Grandma in Arizona, whose voice I haven’t heard since last year. Our call cut out really quickly, but it was so good to talk to you Grandma! I’m not sure we’ll celebrate the holiday in any tradition and although we miss the holiday feel at home, we’ll just have to make do with campfires, mountain bike trails, and the company of each other in this large eucalyptus forest for now!

1,240 kilometers around Australia

Our weekend began with Bellingen’s huge community market complete with carriage rides, live music, great food, massages by the river, lots of crafts and a number of, what looked to be, excuses to clean out the garage. We circled the market twice until deciding to cruise up the hill another 20 kilometers to a place called Dorrigo National Park. The road was steep and windy but towards the top the mountain range that we thought we were climbing turned into beautiful rolling fields and farm land. Dorrigo National Park sits along this steep border and we started our tour with a stroll on a skywalk which led to an amazing view over the rainforest below.

We asked one of the rangers about mountain biking and she pointed us in the direction of a park trail that doesn’t get a ton of use. So we drove in that direction and found a perfectly flat piece of ground at the trailhead where we decided to camp for the evening. It was our first night of free camping in the country and, as we were prepared to get a tap on our window telling us we had to leave, we were excited about our find. Whether no one saw us or no one cared, we never got a tap on the window. Prior to our bike ride we spent the morning trying really hard to do nothing but read, drink coffee and gaze out over the neighboring farms. But in my relaxed state I did manage to give myself quite a scare.

Having a post coffee urge, I strolled away from camp into the forest to find a nice grassy perch. Just as I was about to . . . you know . . . I spotted a scaly, multi-colored and much too large for my liking snake just bathing in the sun. I actually can’t even be sure it was alive since I didn’t exactly wait around to inspect it. Before I knew it, I was leaping back over to the van to share my news with BJ . . . and to catch my breath. The bike ride was a great diversion and led down an old dirt road to a lookout that claims to be the point of conception for most of the local population. But I can’t pretend I wasn’t thinking about the snakes that were going to jump out of the grass and bite my leg the entire time. BJ finally reassured me, telling me to think of snakes like we think of bears and moose back home. They will typically only attack if threatened. The biggest difference when it comes to bike riding down here is that your line of focus becomes the many sticks (that I swore were snakes) lying in the middle of the trail. I can’t wait until we get up to crocodile country. I’m not sure I’ll be going on any bike rides up there.

We returned back to Bellingen for another night and then made our way into Coffs Harbor the following morning for another van appointment. We found a mom and pop shop that would be able to quickly fit a new alternator for Slim. As Jeff worked away on our new alternator (and battery) we were welcomed into his house by his wife for tea. We sat on their porch for what seemed like hours enjoying the neighborhood birds, a couple short rain showers and a view overlooking town. His wife brought us tea, chicken wings, crackers with butter and cheese, fruit, more fruit, and even offered up their spare bedroom to us if we didn’t feel like pushing further up the coast. We had never before experienced such hospitality from a mechanic.

On our way out of town, we made a mandatory stop at Coffs Harbor’s Big Banana, the area’s most popular attraction. It was about as exciting as a big fake banana can be and might shed a little light on the type of excitement you might find in the rest of Coffs Harbor. We didn’t stick around to find out, but instead continued north to a tiny little town called Red Rock, originally an Aboriginal community that is surrounded by national park land and ocean. The post shop, town store, laundry, take-away stand, and campground office are all-in-one but the camp is close to perfection. Just over a small dune from the beach, we set up camp for a couple nights on a nice grassy patch. We are surrounded by noisy birds and crashing waves and truly starting to feel settled in our temporary life on the road.

On Sunday, our early morning pack up and go turned into a second cup of coffee and stroll, but we were still on the road plenty early for our weekend plans. We drove north, through the town of Westport, to an area that we had read about in our NZ Mountain Biking book called Denniston, located high up on a plateau that overlooks the Tasman Sea. The sun was barely shining through the clouds and the air had a very wintry smell to it, but we ramped up our courage, picked a trail (known as the local’s favorite), tossed on our puffy jackets AND beanies, and hopped on our bikes. The first part of the trail wound along the plateau on a mixture of red rock and tacky dirt, reminding us a lot of the mountain biking trails we have come to love in Southern Utah. The big difference being the temperature and we stopped a couple of times to warm up our hands. The trail then dropped into a canyon where we discovered a historic coal mining camp. Our bike ride quickly turned into a history lesson. We learned that the big debacle after discovering coal up on the plateau in the early 1900s was how exactly they would get it down to the coast. There was no road up to the plateau at the time, so they engineered a system known as The Incline, which consisted of two tracks that led straight up from the coast to the top of the plateau. Carts would run down the track full of coal, acting as a counter weight to pull the empty carts back up. If you were working and living up on the plateau the only way to town was to ride on the outside of a cart on the way down and jump in an empty cart on the way back up. After the ride, we drove to the top of the incline. The track has since crumbled away but just looking over the edge from the top of the plateau made us appreciate the engineer’s skill who designed it.

After our ride and unexpected history lesson, we continued north to the small town of Karamea, which is basically the end of the road for the northern West Coast of the South Island (that’s a lot of directions). We spent the night in the sleepy little town, where I am pretty sure everybody who lived there knew about us 10 minutes after we arrived, and spent most of the next day exploring a few different trails in the Oparara Basin. We had no idea what we were in for when we read about the two limestone arches that we could hike to. As we came upon the first arch, the larger and more impressive of the two, we were blown away by its size, 43 meters tall, 79 meters wide, and 219 meters LONG . . . as in length . . . as in the distance you can walk through it while it’s towering 43 meters overhead! It was so long that we actually had to use our head lamps to make our way through it. So how was it formed you ask? Well the river is to blame. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that a river runs through the arch too? The river slowly carved out a layer of granite below the tough limestone rock, leaving behind the limestone arch and tons of stalactites. Once again, we’ve discovered another beautiful piece of nature in New Zealand.

We didn’t realize until the middle of last week that we had a 3-day weekend coming up. It was a very nice surprise but we also realized that it was going to be our last official weekend in Queenstown . . . at least during this trip to New Zealand. We also didn’t have many options as three of the four roads leading out of town would be covered in snow and our desire to camp out in the single digits (that’s Celsius by the way) was overruled by our softening habits. So instead, we planned out a few local bike rides and spent the mornings reading as we waited for the clear air to warm up. Funny enough, we’ve actually hit every biking trail that we know of in the Queenstown area. Looking at the map this weekend, we searched the edges to find a couple that we still had yet to ride. A few of our favorites were out of the question as the snow slowly crept down the mountain side during most of last week. But we settled on a ride up to Lake Dispute along the road to Glenorchy and a ride out to Macetown, just upriver from Arrowtown.

The first ride out to Lake Dispute was slightly muddy, requiring a few more walking sections than normal, but lead out to a very quiet and serene lake that sits in a valley between Mt. Crichton and Mt. Ben Lomond. We only ran into one other group who found our loud conversation, about why anyone would “dispute” the lake, quite amusing. The downhill was a combination of cruisy singletrack, switchbacks, and wide sections covered in babyheads, but all in all a fun ride.

Our second ride turned into three short rides. The trail to Macetown follows the Arrow River for a couple hours, crossing it on twelve different occasions. We figured a clear sunny day, although cold, would be a great day for this particular trail. But we failed to remember that Arrowtown is situated perfectly to the south of a small mountain range, which blocks out a majority of the winter sun. Crossing the rushing Arrow River in the shade all of a sudden seemed much less desirable. So we ventured out as far as we could to the first crossing, looked at how deep we would be wading to cross it and at the snowy peaks in the distance, laughed at ourselves, and quickly turned around. Back at the car we turned toward the Chinese Settlement and continued out a road that led to a trail up and over a mountain to Macetown. We figured we might hit a little snow at the summit but it was better than hypothermia. We reached the trailhead and found a sign that said “Track crosses private land. No bikes.” Our chances of getting caught were pretty slim but we played by the rules and turned around . . . once again. Back at the car we rode over to the small skate park and played on a couple little jumps which warmed our freezing fingers and toes right up. We finally settled on the rolling and wide river side Millennium trail. It was busy with strollers and dogs but still a nice leisurely ride.

With most of our afternoon still open, we decided to give our bikes some very overdue cleaning attention. Our patio, where we normally clean our bikes, is now shaded for most of the day so after spraying them off, we loaded them back into the car and drove to a sunny park in Frankton to give them a thorough clean. We had two little boys, probably no older than ten, approach us asking if we could fix their seat height. We should have put up a sign for our temporary bike shop.

Today is Tuesday and our last day on this long weekend which we’ll be spending giving the house a deep clean. BJ and I move out next weekend and Steve moves out not too long thereafter but today is the only day we all have together to pitch in some elbow grease. Looking at the frost covered deck and neighboring rooftops on this fine fall day, it may not be so bad to spend the day inside . . . cleaning.

We have been hearing about Fluer’s Place, a seafood restaurant in the town of Moeraki on the East Coast, over and over again from our friend Brendan, who I work with at the winery. So we waited for a rainy weekend in Queenstown to drive the three hours each way to the coast just to go to dinner. We woke up on Sunday morning to a fresh blanket of snow in the mountains but the roads were all open so we optimistically packed the car with our tent and bikes. Only a half hour out of town in Cromwell, BJ spotted a sign that said “Motorcross Race.” He quickly flipped the car around and said “we gotta check it out.” For those of you who don’t know BJ spent his entire childhood professionally racing motor-cross and I had yet to experience a race. We pulled up and BJ was immediately taken back to his early years . . . there was a distant humming (what I kept referring to as a swarm of bees) and a distinct smell of exhaust hovering at nose level. We watched a few races, all kids under 13 years old and even a 6 and under class. It was so exciting and even though we didn’t know anyone there we began to root for some of the riders. It might possibly be the highlight of our weekend.

We hopped back in the car and drove another hour to Naseby where we hoped to go on a bike ride. The last time we were in Naseby the forest was closed due to fire danger. With so much snow over the last couple weeks we knew we wouldn’t face the same problem. We waited out the rain, and the decision making, in the only café in town over a few coffees and finally talked ourselves into a short ride. Had the trails been dry the riding would have been amazing. It reminded me a lot like riding in Utah, without the slickrock. But the wet clay that we encountered seemed to eat us up, bikes and all. To top it all off, it started to snow half way through our ride and we started joking about how we should have packed our ski goggles. Although slightly frozen, we continued along the more stable fire roads until it was time to return our muddy selves to the car and head through more snow country to dinner.

Despite having packed the tent, once we were in Moeraki we were both easily persuaded to step it up and pay a little extra for a one room cabin. It was perfect, equipped with an oil heater which we instantly turned on high, and had views overlooking the Moeraki harbor. We arrived at Fleur’s Place later that evening to a packed house and immediately remember it was Mother’s Day in New Zealand. We tried to pace ourselves so we could enjoy the experience for as long as possible. Our appetizer, a huge pot of green lip mussels, was delicious and my entrée, John Dory with caper lime sauce was perfectly flaky and flavorful. BJ’s baked sole melt entrée was a bit of a letdown but maybe that’s what we should have expected ordering fish covered in cheese. He got over it, scrapped off the cheese, and helped me finish my meal and a scrumptious berry crème brule for dessert.

The following morning we drove a little further up the coast to the historic port town of Omaru where we gave ourselves a tour of a Whiskey storage house and watched an Antarctic blast throw giant waves over the harbor’s retaining wall. We encountered enough snow on the way back to Queenstown that we are on the lookout for a set of chains. Once we move north, and even if it means skiing in our jeans and rented alpine gear, we will only be a couple hours from a handful of ski areas.

We took advantage of the sunshine this weekend and spent two days on two very different types of biking tracks in Wanaka and Queenstown. On Sunday morning, after a leisurely breakfast, we drove over the Crown Range to Wanaka to explore the Sticky Forest, a network of trails that overlook the lake. Each trail was actually quite short but they all join together making it easy to ride most of them in just one afternoon. Navigating was somewhat of an issue as only a handful of the trails were actually marked so we spent a few minutes during every ride looking at a tiny map we bought for $2, trying to figure out where we were. We spent about three hours exploring the forest before heading to the lake front to skip rocks and brainstorm ideas for BJ’s upcoming redesign project at Vertical Media. Although we had planned to camp in Wanaka that night, we somehow managed to remember everything but our tent and sleeping pads. We even brought an extra blanket because we knew it was going to be a cold night. So instead of spending the night restless in the back of the car, we drove the easy hour drive home and snuggled in to our warm bed.

The following morning, we ventured out for another bike ride in Skippers Canyon. A very different ride from yesterday, the Mount Dewar track has a lot of climbing in the beginning and the end and a huge downhill in the middle. It is a classic cross country ride with a handful of hike-a-bike sections. Although on a 4 wheel drive track for most of the downhill we both concluded that it was probably one of the longest descents we had ever rode. The trail flattened out for a while as we rode high above the bright blue waters of the Shotover River before meeting up with the road again for our final ascent to the car. We have been up the same road a couple of times before, coming in from a different trail, but this time it seemed to take us twice as long. We were beat after four hour ride of ups and downs and arounds. But we weren’t nearly as tired as our friends Tim and Mary Lynn were this weekend. They completed an 18 hour race together in Fruita, Colorado . . . nice work you two!

Now it’s back to another week of work and wine in beautiful NZ . . . damn, we have it rough.

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

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.

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.