riverECHO

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.

By now I would assume most of the world is aware of the fires that have been engulfing Australia, the largest fires in their history, having killed 130 people! Yesterday we experienced their magnitude when we woke up to an orange haze, the haze that back home I associate with a fire. It had us perplexed for a while as we tried to think of what was west of us . . . mountains covered in rainforest, the rainiest place in New Zealand, and the ocean. It was hard to imagine a fire taking place in any of these very wet places. But across the ocean a ways . . . Australia . . . of course.

The eerie apocalyptic sky set the tone for the day for us. Our plans for a big bike ride turned into a morning of drinking lots of coffee, cooking a huge breakfast (eggs, bacon, mushrooms, and onion covered in puff pastry), and reading on the couch. BJ’s quote of the day, which almost won as the title of this blog: “I love drinking coffee and doing nothing.” That pretty much sums it up. We finally dragged ourselves out of the house, went on a 30 minute bike ride, half of which was up a paved road near Coronet Peak, and then drove to Arrowtown to spend a couple hours reading and napping in a park under a tree under an orange sky, followed by our classic kiwi date . . . dinner and a mooooovie. This time, however, we didn’t watch the typical blockbuster. Waltz with Bashir, an animated portrayal of an Israeli soldier’s memory (or loss of memory) of the Lebanon War in the early 1980s, is one of the most unique and powerful films I have seen. Based on the dreamlike memories that he has, and those that he discovers through interviews of fellow soldiers, it seems only fitting that the film would be animated. We quickly drove home to look up a map and details on the war.

The orange skies had moved on from Queenstown today and we woke up with a bit more energy. We still spent a little time with coffee, breakfast, and books on the couch, but sooner than later got antsy and headed out to a place called Moke Lake for a bike ride. Despite the encroaching dark rain clouds, we set out anyways along a dirt road that wrapped around the backside of Ben Lomond Peak, which shadows Queenstown. The road eventually meets up with singletrack along the Moonlight Track. We had some hellish climbs and fast descents along the road but were clearly enjoying worrying the sheep, the lack of people, the historic feeling of riding along an old mining road, and the incredible views over the valley that dropped off from the road. On our way back to the car, BJ got an idea in his head (or maybe his belly) of a Fergburger, a famous burger joint in downtown Queenstown that we had yet to experience. I pictured Homer (BJ) sleepwalking (riding a bike) to the fridge (Queenstown) with a thought bubble of beer (big juicy burger) above his head. We tried the burger kiwi style by asking for a topping of sliced beets and, of course, a side of chips (fries). It was a delicious Monday afternoon in New Zealand.

We arrived in Dunedin on Saturday evening to a very quiet and somewhat deserted downtown. BJ had spent 6 months of his college career studying (a.k.a. kayaking) in Dunedin and remembers late nights and busy dance clubs. The stranded streets surprised us as we toured the University of Otago campus and the octagon. But after emerging from a leisurely evening of dinner and a movie, the sidewalks were filled and the bars were bouncing. We had loaded our camping gear and bikes for the weekend and planned to explore some of the city’s well known trails. We spent the first night in a city campground under bright lights and actually woke up in the middle of the night to a car cruising (with their music bumping and everything) the campground. A little sleep deprived on Sunday morning, we drove up the Otago Peninsula to see the ocean and to try to spot an albatross. We stopped for breakfast and the farmer’s market in the very small town of Portobello, but didn’t catch a glimpse of any of the enormous birds.

We spent the afternoon on three bike rides. The Switchback Trail, although it sounds grueling, was perfectly built with banked turns and steady inclines . . . it was fun both up and down. Bethunes was a series of trails that left and came back to the same city park. On the last section of Bethunes, BJ went for the “expert” but short drop back to the park while I took the long and cruisy “sport” track back. We were loving the trails so far and after grabbing a small bite to eat and a beer at an Irish Pub just down the street from BJ’s old house, we were very excited to hit up Whare Flats, what we had read as a technical haven for mountain bikers. We were floored . . . or should I say thrown to the floor, or in this case the rocky ground. The ladders and bridges were way over my head and I spent most of the time either walking or asking BJ for a hand to pull me out of the bushes. Not our favorite trail, but it had been a great day so it was hard to complain too much.

That evening we drove up the east coast to camp next to the Moeraki Boulders, a geological formation along the beach that from afar look like a bunch of car sized soccer balls. I still don’t fully understand how they were formed but as the ocean erodes the shoreline, more and more “soccer balls” are exposed and slowly roll onto the beach. The nearby town has flourished on this tourist attraction. Walking back to our camp along the beach, we stopped for a swing in a small park. The “climbing structure” in the park was actually a small replica of the boulders.

On our drive back toward Queenstown, we read a description in our mountain bike guide book that lured us to a trail in the forest outside of the small town of Naseby (picture the movie “The Village”). The book had warned that sometimes the forest service closes the forest for fire risk . . . and it was Closed when we arrived. A local told us that sometimes they flip the sign at mid-day, so we parked the car, pulled out our books, and laid down in the grass to wait it out. After an hour or so with no sign of a ranger, we hopped back in the car and drove the final two hours to Queenstown. To subside itch to get back on our bikes, we road a trail around Lake Wakatipu to Jack’s Point. There was a surprising amount of technical areas along this city trail and with its proximity to our house, we are sure to return many times. It feels good to be off the feet and back on two wheels.

This was the first week, since we arrived in New Zealand two months ago, that I would classify as a “typical” week for us. We returned from a weekend away . . . in this scenario, hiking the Kepler Track. We’ve worked a regular schedule from Tuesday through Saturday . . . one day of which we spent in a very busy internet café in town as our house had its quarterly inspection. I spent two afternoons volunteering . . . in this case, tasting samples I had pulled last week and pulling new samples from lots that still need sulfur. We cooked at home every night . . . chicken tikki masala, pasta with garlic, mushrooms, and homemade rolls, pasta with recently killed venison from our roommate Steve, and grilled chicken salad. And yesterday afternoon, we went on our first ride on our new-to-us mountain bikes. I guess this last activity isn’t so “typical” for us down here, but because we spend so many summer afternoons at home in Victor biking, it is in fact very “typical.” The part about the ride that was atypical was that I took a huge digger within the first 20 minutes of the ride. Let’s hope taking diggers like that one do not become the norm for me.

Here’s a kiwi lesson for the week: Although they may drive on the left side of the road, they certainly don’t have any rules about walking to the left. BJ and I have tried to fit in by making a point of veering left while walking on a sidewalk or passing someone in the grocery store. In our efforts to act like the Kiwis and walk left, we have been faced with sidewalk standoffs and confusing moments. I wouldn’t say this really bothers me, since the solution is easy . . . veering right, but it confuses me. I’ll report back with findings for next week’s research project . . . walking right!

On another note . . . my dad and Fran just arrived in the country. They are travelling around the north island for a couple weeks before joining us in Queenstown. Welcome to New Zealand!

One mountain bike has arrived and we are waiting on another. Currently we can take turns on the one, but neither one of us has been motivated to leave the other person behind. The other bike will show up soon enough and we can’t wait. The bikes are exactly the same year and model . . . would you expect anything different from two people who dress alike and have the same of everything? Although they have a little less travel than the bikes we left at home, I don’t think we will be complaining too much once we are riding them. We already have a list of biking trails that we want to explore.

Meanwhile, I have taken up a bit of volunteer work at a local winery called Mount Edward. Kind of random I suppose, but I thought it would be fun to learn a little bit about how wine is made since it is such a big industry down here. I’ve only spent two afternoons there so far helping add sulfur to all the ba rrels of pinot noir. We also sampled some chardonnay yesterday (as this is their first year making chardonnay) to see how the lot was coming along in barrels where they had used different techniques. Don’t think I was drinking on the job though, we all spit it out after smelling it and swishing it around in our mouths. Duncan, my “boss,” is helping me in my ability to describe wine, a skill which seems to take either years of experience or some real bull$#!^ing. All I have been able to do so far is say what I like and what I don’t like. To help me learn, Duncan sent me away with a homework assignment . . . 3 bottles of pinot noir, all from different vintages (2005, 2006, and 2007) . . . hardly homework. I am supposed to come back next week with a short speech prepared on their differences. If only we had homework like this in college.

It didn’t take long after our evening riding the downhill trails on Coronet Peak for BJ to find and bid on two mountain bikes on the Kiwi version of ebay. They have yet to arrive and we are very excited to start riding but, in the end, what may hold us up is the delivery of a box marked “Bike” that BJ’s mom just took to the post office in Victor. We left three ready-to-ship boxes in our closet at home, each marked appropriately . . . Bike, Ski, Climb. The big items like bikes and skis obviously didn’t fit very well in the boxes so we decided before we left that we would buy and then sell those items down here.

We spent another evening, with a movie at the Dorothy Brown’s cinema and dinner at a restaurant called The Stables, in Arrowtown on Tuesday. We just can’t seem to get enough of that place. The one detail we noticed this week while sitting in our enormous reclining theatre seats with a glass of wine and cheeseboard in hand, was that we were surrounded by more-than-double-by-age women. There’s just no classy way of saying it . . . middle-aged. But it was the realization that we were there enjoying the film with them that actually made us laugh. The film was Vicky Cristina Barcelona, a Woody Allen film that I thought had a somewhat disappointing ending until, over dinner, BJ pointed out the message about passion that it was trying to convey. I won’t spoil it for you.

On another note, yesterday my Aunt Kate sent me a link to a job she thought I should apply for . . . The Best Job in the World . . . which thoroughly distracted me for most of the day. If you are unemployed (actually even if you are employed), and looking for some quality time writing on the beach, this would be a great opportunity. I think the job requirements say “must be willing to snorkel, sail, or kayak as needed.” I know . . . really demanding.

We started our weekend on Saturday afternoon with a good session of rugby. The Rugby Sevens is a national tournament where all the national teams have a chance to play each other for only seven minute halves. This year the tournament was held in Queenstown and just happened to land on our roommate’s birthday. Ali and Steve were already with a crowd of friends at the rugby field and Steve was already well on his way to a good sunburn and hangover the following morning. Saturday was also Alan and Lily’s last night in Queenstown, and all of New Zealand, before flying to Australia. We met up with them at the entrance to the Rugby Sevens and spent the afternoon drinking Speights (which they only sold in 6-packs at the games), eating sausage rolls (a sausage served in a slice of regular sandwich bread), and trying to understand the rules of the game. For their final evening in town we went out to dinner at The Cow, a small pizza restaurant that we have become very fond of, and out for a mandatory-last-night-in-Queenstown-dessert at Patagonia Chocolates, another favorite. Thanks for spending the day with us Alan and Lily and have a great time in Australia. After saying goodbye to them, we made our way to Monty’s where we were supposed to meet Steve and Ali for the rest of the evening of birthday fun. There was no sign of them and we quickly found out that the birthday boy decided to call it a night a little early. We were bummed to have missed him but decided to enjoy some local beats by the band Pass the Sauce before making our way home.

We’ve spent the majority of our weekends and time off in New Zealand exploring the country’s trails by foot. This changed on Sunday afternoon. Coronet Peak, a local ski area, maintains a few downhill mountain biking trails with lift access and although neither one of us had ever been on an official downhill bike* (despite BJ’s very skilled past on a motorcross bike), we decided to rent downhill bikes and spend the evening playing on the trails. (For those who need a little explanation: a downhill bike differs from a cross-country bike (what we ride back in Idaho) in that the center of balance is slightly farther back, the shocks are much larger, and it is very difficult if not impossible to actually ride a downhill bike up a hill.) Although we’ve been relatively dedicated bikers for the last few summers, it took a couple runs of slowing down through the banked turns and rolling over the small jumps to really feel stable again. And then we couldn’t get enough of it . . . gaining speed in the turns, going fast, and jumping (well I only hit the small ones). By the final lap, our butts were sore and our hands and forearms were cramping. But damn it was fun. Still grinning and giddy, we met Steve and Ali in Arrowtown for dinner at the New Orleans Hotel. They had been graciously waiting for us for an hour and were excited to see us so we could all finally order. Once we returned home, BJ quickly hopped on the computer to check the latest bike listings on trademe.co.nz (basically an ebay for New Zealand) while the three of us watched a classic . . . The Lost Boys.

Today, Monday, was the perfect Sunday. We slept in (although it’s very unlike us, I am really starting to enjoy this habit), looked at more bikes online, went for a short hike that overlooks the Shotover River, and played some frisbee by the lake. The Shotover River (or as Gretchen likes to call it, the Shootover) is a hub for many adrenaline seeking visitors. We didn’t realize our hike would be overlooking some of these activities. We watched a handful of people doing a giant canyon swing and watched a jet boat do 360s through tight canyon walls . . . see for yourself.

BJ and I pulled into camp atop Gooseberry Mesa at about 1am on Friday night. Popped the top of the van and fell right asleep. When we woke in the morning, it didn’t take us long to fall right into weekend mode with Tim & Mary Lynn, Jimmy & Trish, Cory, and Mike & Nicholas (the youngest member of our weekend gang). We gathered a group to join us on our introductory Gooseberry ride – out to the point, then back on the South Rim and Hidden Canyon Trails. I had forgotten how fun these trails are – a combination of slickrock, dirt, gorgeous views, pretty flat, but just enough challenge to keep you breathing hard and on top of your game.

Tim had already set up a slackline from the front hitch on his van to a juniper tree. If the line got more slack, he would simply back his van up a couple of inches to tighten it. We spent a few hours rotating out turns on the slackline, practicing our hula-hoop moves, and drinking Jimmy’s kick-you-in-the-ass margaritas. After an evening ride to the north rim to watch the sun set, we scurried back to camp to get some sleep before our big venture on Sunday.

Sunday to Subway – No photos for this one (see Tim & Mary Lynn’s blog for a visual journal). Tim and ML have been practicing their rope and climbing skills and invited us to join them to hike the Subway in Zion National Park. We called it a day of extremes as we began hiking in 100 degree weather and slowly made our way down a plateau to a narrow canyon where we would complete three mandatory rappels and four mandatory and icy swims (one of which was so narrow you had to doggy paddle). Towards the end of the tight canyon it becomes obvious why the area is called the Subway. Picture tube shaped walls perfectly wide enough for a subway train to wind its way through this remote route in the rock. A slow meandering walk out brought us back to the mesa just in time for Trish’s delicious steak fajita dinner at 9pm.