Sharon’s Blog

I didn’t want to fight Imogen for him, but she already has Malcolm .

I had an obstructed view seat at the dinner table (there was a big fireplace in the middle of the room), but the ladies kept talking about the green leggings. I was searching the place, but couldn’t see them. So they sent me to the ladies room, so my grabbing a gander wouldn’t be so obvious. They forgot my camera had a flash. But, I probably wouldn’t have noticed the reflective stripes on the running shoes without it. His friend must be the real man…he had nothing covering his legs in the cold. But he didn’t shave. This biking thing has really gotten to me when I notice which guys shave their legs and which don’t. Thanks, Sean… The best thing was when we passed by the table to leave a little later I noticed they were wearing matching caps, from some pipe company here.

Can only imagine what people are posting on their blogs about us…but seriously, it was a great night. Our group realized we shared a similar, if a bit sick, sense of humor and set us up looking for the Welli Boys in all the towns to come.

The first guy to catch our eye that evening was White-Well Boy. Tall, dark and handsome, dontcha think? Jenny had to let me down gently though…she told me that the white gumboots mean that he kills baby sheep for a living at the abbatoir. Guess I won’t be taking him home with me. He hung with quite a crowd…there was the guy with black bandana covered dreads and very hip (seriously) black glasses with a white Maori motif on the sides. Could have found him in Santa Cruz, actually. Then there was the tallest guy with the rock star curly dark hair thing going. They were definitely better pool players than we were though. Think they spent some serious time at ti. Who knew at the time, but this was going to be the hottest nightlife we’d find in all of New Zealand…

We moved on to have dinner at the World Heritage Hotel Pub. Really good. Turns out to be one of the better places we ate, which surprised everyone over the course of the week. I had sweet potato and capsicum soup – yes, another big bowl – followed by a miso salmon with veggie and rice. Different than my miso salmon, but still very good. Much better than the salmon and béarnaise at Capriccio in Wanaka the night before.

Because it was the only place in town with veggies, the restaurant was packed. It was also a popular watering hole with the locals. We had a 45 mintue wait for dinner, so we took over one of the pool tables while we consumed some wine. The red drinkers were having a cab/merlot blend, but I stuck with the Wither Hills Sauv Blanc. Turns out that Jenny is quite the pool shark (she has a pool table in her garage back in Wanaka or something like that). Karsten wasn’t bad either, but he had me on his team. Malcolm was Jenny’s teammate. Eventually my dinner showed up and Dave took my spot on the team. I think Karsten became much happier at that point. And I joined the Helen, Imogen and Catherine at the table to check out the guys…

Got to Haast after a not too long drive, but then again, I slept through most of it. Think Catherine was cruel and took a picture of me snoozing. The motel here, the Heritage Park Lodge wasn’t too exciting, but it’s fine for sleeping. All these motels have the front wall all windows, so you really do have to be careful to close the curtains. The café and supermarket were already closed and I think it was only 6pm. We had agreed to meet at the pub just down the road at 7pm. Pub 1 had no veggies, so we had to move on. Lots of antlers hanging from the rafters though.

While waiting to here the verdict on whether we were eating there or not, we got a view of a heliguy refueling his chopper. Not your usual gas station. Basically he poured gas from a red plastic jug into the copter…one like I have from when I ran out of gas in front of Harold, only a little bigger. Then he just took off…the helipad was just a driveway in front a biggish corrugated metal garage. We saw this guy make multiple runs during the evening, landing once carrying a cargo of 4-5 giant deer hanging from the bottom. Creepy! It turns out that he’s also the guy who’ll chopper you to the hospital if you crash coming down to the Gates of Haast.

I had gone out on the deck to take some pictures of the heli-scene and there were two guys sitting out there having a beer and a smoke. Liked the look…camouflage capri pants. The princess would have been proud…until she saw the wellis. But tell me, really – which is worse? Gumboots on boys with capri pants or those UGG boots with mini skirts on girls?

Before the drive to Haast (where many of us fell asleep), we made a quick stop at these falls. Very tall, and it was only one of two. The other was much higher up and couldn’t be seen from where we were. You had to walk through a forest of fern trees – basically like palm tree trunks, but instead of palm fronds growing out the top, you have giant fern fronds. The water was once again a clear blue. We were trying to get Malcolm to go swimming, but he was having none of it.

As was usually the case, I was the last one out. Taking more pictures than everyone else – and before the trip was done people were taking pictures of me taking pictures. I was reminded of the dinner boat on the Seine in Paris where all the Japanese tourists would be doing that across the table instead of taking in the sights. Maybe I’ve become part Japanese. Anyway – I was taking pictures of the fern trees and working out how to keep the flash off on the new camera, when I turned around and saw this couple. Thought it captured the day and place, even if I didn’t get the whole falls.

It was rainy when we got out of the forest and out from under the cover of the trees. Cold again too. When we got to the van, the guy with all the stuff on his bike had just made it up the hill. He was soaked. Once we stood there for a few minutes, we noticed we were getting bit by the sandflies for the first time. Bug spray wasn’t on the packing list (Karsten – if you’re reading this, I forgot to put that on my feedback form!) and you needed it. We had to keep the van door closed, because they would quickly swarm in there. Catherine was generous with her remaining bug spray though and I didn’t get bitten too badly. Turns out they are different from mosquitos – they bite, and leave a little hole or mark, and it stings, but they don’t hang around and suck on you. The itching never gets anywhere near as bad as mosquitoes do for me though, so I’ll take these guys over them. It’s still a bit annoying though.

The ride was a steep downhill wet ride – gave it a miss. Still not riding downhills where there are runaway truck ramps. The cattle stops didn’t look fun either, so while I was driving down with Jenny I was happy to be in the van. Later in the trip, Karsten told a story of a woman who came down it, rode her brakes so long they locked up and she did a header into the rock face. Had to be helicoptered out of Haast and to a hospital up the coast with some pretty serious injuries, although nothing too horrendous because she was wearing a helmet. After I heard that I was really glad I didn’t go. That being said, everyone else came down alive.

At the base of this hill is a bridge and this huge waterfall/rapid over giant boulders, called the Gates of Haast. I roamed around the banks watching and listening to the huge quantities of rushing water. One of boulders looked sort of like a certain mask I’ve seen – maybe African in style? Anyway – they were tremendous and the water, though strong and voluminous, had some serious obstacles to get around. I have a picture with Catherine in it that gives a better sense of scale, but I couldn’t get the whole rock in it – and I think this boulder is sort of the centerpiece of the place.

I was able to get pictures of everyone coming over the bridge. Helen came down behind everyone else, and almost rode right by the van she was so focused on not crashing! We got her attention. At this point, all the warmth from hike had completely worn off and everyone was cold and wet again, so it was back in the van for the ride down to Haast, with one more quick stop.

It was cold, starting to rain, and a pretty big hill, so after the cafe stop, we opted to hike the Haast Pass rather than ride it. It was our first view of the New Zealand bush. They call it a rainforest. More like a fern forest – can’t believe all the different types of ferns we saw while we were out there. I love the fern families…little clusters of new fern fronds coming up in the center of old, large ones – still rolled up at the tops. They look like little people standing in a cluster talking to one other, with the spirals at the top being the heads. These unfurled fern leaves are where the Koru symbol for “new beginnings” comes from…it’s a motif you see in a lot of the jade and carved bone jewelry here. The hike starts along a creek, that got wider and deeper as we climbed through the forest. Water was so clear and blue and you could see to bottom of depths from way up high on the hills the banked it. About a third of the way through the hike you had to cross a swing bridge over it. There was another one of those little exclamation point signs saying, “Maximum 5 People.” I crossed last, making sure there were only two people ahead of me – just for safe measure.

It was raining, but the cover was so think, it didn’t really get through. When we left the van, we were still so cold from Boundary Creek and Makarora, I had several layers on, but as we walked, I had to keep peeling them off. Especially the raincoat, which doesn’t breathe. Felt like I had a bustle on by the time I had everything tied around my waist. Bike clothes, hiking boots, and fleece and flourescent yellow raincoat around my waist … must have been quite an attractive look. I’m sure the princess wouldn’t have been seen with me!

Jenny had to drive the van to the top, but came tramping down the hill and met us about halfway. She seems to know an awful lot about the local flora and fauna. There were lots of little waterfalls everywhere, bursting through the ferns and beech trees. Heard lots of new bird sounds. It was my first time hearing the bird that sounds like a pinball machine. Have no idea what it is yet. During the week there was another one that sounded like R2D2 from Star Wars. I suppose it’s the other way around … just wondering if the creators of those things had the birds in mind when they created the electronic sounds or if it’s just happenstance (or if I’m just nuts…). We came across some fuschia, but it was miniature compared to what I’m used to seeing in Ireland or the US.

There was an opening at the highest point where you could see out to the mountains in several directions and back out over the water. I had Malcolm take a picture of me (took the bustle off), but those Brits are different. Instead of saying cheese, apparently you say, “sausages.” But I don’t eat meat!!! Was saying that back when he snapped the picture, so you guys don’t get that one. It was wild though – standing in the rainforest, looking at snow capped peaks, now sweating from being so warm. Anyway – it was a good hike, about 2.5 miles in part of Mt. Aspiring National Park – can’t remember exactly which trail it was. Made me realize I should do more of that at home with all the places we have.

As I mentioned, Karsten took pity on we shivering creatures at Boundary Creek and decided to buy us a coffee at Makarora. Basically it’s an outpost in the mountains with a lodge, cafe, little store, and an airstrip for scenic flights. Aircraft seem to be willing to take off from just about anywhere in this country. There were lots of dead truck and car parts out front too, giving the place quite the look.

While we were there another bike trip pulled in from the other direction. There was a road bike up there on that trailer – only one, but I was jealous. There was also a a guy riding solo with all of his gear. Wouldn’t have wanted to be carrying all that up these hills and against the wind. Funny thing was Catherine had run into him a few times while on the trip before. It became kind of a joke, because we kept seeing him over the next few days as well, but we were always in the van and he’d be out there braving the terrain and the elements. I think it made our Ironwoman feel a bit wimpy, but she didn’t let it bother her much.

Got inside and ordered a hot cocoa. While waiting for it, I went into the store and Catherine pulled me aside to show me a very fashionable (yea, right) sweater I should buy. It was made of the heaviest (and perhaps ugliest) brown wool I’d ever seen. I was reminded of the dense chain underlayer the knights used to wear under their armor when I touched it. The cocoa was great, but went down too fast. Spoke to a nice boy from Oklahoma working in the store. Yep – still not meeting many native New Zealanders, even out here.

When we got outside to hear the plans for the afternoon, Dave noticed a barbie out back. It was huge – constructed from a rusty old steam engine of some sort.

After our windy ride, we stopped off for a windy lunch. There’s a small pass between two mountain ranges and you’re back along Lake Wanaka again. The Boundary Creek rest stop/camping spot we ate in had a little shelter, where we were somewhat protected from the wind, but not by much. Little waves were lapping up on the shore from the extremely choppy lake and we could see the snow being blown around the peaks, under the clouds. You could tell this was standard fare because of the shape of the trees in our little cove. Some of them reminded me of the cypress along the California coastline. I walked around the beach and a glade of trees…trying not to get blown into the lake. Wanted to be able to look back down to the end of the lake we started from, but you couldn’t see all the way down to town. There was some brush with pretty pink flowers on it. Walking back to the lunch spot through the glade, I found a little blue dome tent doing it’s best not to be blown over too, although the trees slowed the wind down a bit. There was a story posted there of the building of the highway through the Haast Pass. The road was built by 1965, but not fully paved, or “tarsealed” until 1995. The location was dedicated to Makarora Jack, who worked for his 90+ years getting it built. Must have been hard work.

While I was exploring, Karsten and Jenny were setting up lunch in a little covered area. Everyone was huddled ’round drinking something hot and trying to find shelter from the wind. By the time I got back, there was no hot water left…oh no! Lunch was a picnic setup, with us getting our first of the killer Karsten salads. It was a pasta salad with corn, sweet red capsicum (or pepper, as it is better known at home), pine nuts & sunflower seeds. Very tasty. There was lots of other stuff to choose from too – had a half a cheese, pesto and sun dried tomato sandwich. Skipped the mussels that day. There were meats for those who ate them, but I didn’t pay much attention. Since the hot drinks weren’t an option, I had my first tast of L&P, or Lemon and Paeroa. It was sort of a cross between 7Up and Ginger Ale, but slightly more perfumy in taste. Pretty good actually – except I really wanted something hot (as did everyone else). Every now and then, the sun would peek through the clouds and we’d all run out from under the shelter to bask a bit.

By this time, Karsten was trying to boil water in a huge covered pot over propane that was set up in a little grill that seemed made for sticking propane tanks in. Unfortunately, the water wasn’t going to boil before dinner time and we would have been icebergs floating in the lake by then. New Zealand already has its icebergs floating in for the first time in 75 years, so they didn’t need more … see Icebergs Become Tourist Mecca. Between that and the cheeky little birds trying to eat our remaining cookies, we decided it was time to take off and find a cafe that could make us coffee instead.

Started our ride at one end of Lake Hawea on Monday AM. Yet another Lake Tahoe…just on the other side of the hills from Lake Wanaka. It was incredibly windy, and we started straight up a hill. Then it was nice and rolling for quite some time with spectacular views all the way. Have gotten used to riding on the left hand side of the road, BTW. Did I tell you they have their brakes backwards on the bikes here? They switched ‘em for me before we started so I wouldn’t go flying over the handlbars on a downhill. I am making peace with this bike – can shift the gears without dropping the chain now and am getting used to it feeling so HUGE, but I still miss my bike. Malcolm had me chanting “I love my bike, I love my bike” before we left and I suppose it helped.

We rode for what seemed like forever, but was probably only about six or seven miles – the wind was brutal. Then there was this biggish hill (by Sharon standards) that Jenny talked me into trying. I was about 2/3rds of the way up, could barely breathe anymore, but thought I was going to make it. Then this giant tour bus blew by me. There really isn’t any shoulder here, so it scared the hell out of me. He gave me enough room, but I was huffing and puffing and being blown so much by the headwind, I didn’t really know he was there until he was right next to me. So my heart rate, already pretty maxed out, went through the roof because of the panic. I made it another little ways, but hopped off before I could quite make it. My legs were like jelly…

Then it was pedaling downhill into the wind from the lookout. Met a nice guy from Texas up there who thought we were nuts riding in that wind. But the scenery was worth it. At one point, it didn’t look real, but more like a computer graphics generated movie. It’s all so crisp and perfect. The pictures won’t do it justice. Dave, Helen and I were behind the other three and rode almost all the way to the turnoff to Kids Bush – through more rolling hills all the way there. When we pulled into Kids Bush, the others were nowhere to be found…they missed the part about waiting at the turn off. We had to drive all the way in to the campground several miles down a dirt road to find them. Got to see lost of cows and sheep, and get vistas of the lake going back the other way we wouldn’t have otherwise, though.

There’s a great road sign here…just a giant exclamation point. Encounted my first one on the road to Kids Bush. It was to mark where you might run into a giant water runoff from the mountains that would drag your car down into the lake. Was dry when we went by, but you could see how serious it might be during the snowmelt. My question is, how do the cows and sheep know when to get out of the way, though?