Tag Archives: mountain biking

Getting on with it

I don’t like being unemployed anymore. As in unemployed and not travelling. Being unemployed because you’re travelling, now that’s great. There’s a purpose to that. Right? It’s fun anyway: life’s an adventure and anything is possible.

I’d like to say I’m treating every day, right here in Bristol, with the adventurous attitude of the traveller. I do sometimes, and that’s great. I do my best the rest of the time, and that’s ok too. But…well…it can be hard.

Nonetheless, alongside trying to sort out my work life and whatever else, I’ve been working on achieving another goal. Something that’s really quite important to me. Something I’ve faffed about with pretty much since I came to Bristol. Or longer really. I am going to become the cyclist I have for years envisioned myself to be!

Oooh, wow. Don’t laugh. You see, I can ride a bike fine. I’ve even quite recently thrown myself around a New Zealand forest on a mountain bike. But: I’m scared of traffic, not all that hot on the correct use of gears and get stopped at times by an annoying mix of gravity and the mildest of hills. And then just the other day I investigated and realised that my bike, which had suffered, al fresco, through the British winter in my absence, was in need of mechanical help. The brake pads were rubbing on the wheels, creating a horrible squeaking. But I arranged for a knight in shining armour (or a fetching fleece anyway) to be sent, free of charge, courtesy of the Cycling City project. All fixed now. Fantastic!

Next stop: my first cycle training session on Wednesday. Watch out, world!

This could be me!

Volcanic wanderings – part two

My last morning in Taupo I did the Huka Falls walk. To get there you walk alongside the river, and go past the Taupo Bungy centre. I watched a few people do their jumps over the river. Nice spot for it.

Then through the bush (cue pic of tree fern and…tree)

and finally you hear the rushing and roaring of the Falls. They must be near! The view when you get there is quite breathtaking.

I headed back after that, stopping off at the Taupo Bungy cafe for my habitual coffee. Still no bungy jump for me, in answer to those who were betting I would do one while in NZ. Don’t you know I don’t follow tick lists?

It was now time to get my stuff and get on the bus to Rotorua. Sulphur City, here I come.  And yeah, you do smell it as you approach. I’d had a preview during the Tongariro Crossing, actually. Yum yum, eggy fumes.

Some fascinating facts about the area, now pay attention. The Rotorua Basin was formed by volcanic eruptions, and I read somewhere that Rotorua has one earthquake a day, of Richter magnitude 2 or less. You get geothermal water spurting to the surface in geysers in some places and there are lots and lots and lots of sulphur flats and pools, complete with colourful (and hardy) microorganisms and that delicious odour.

I set off that afternoon to explore the city. First up, the lake (it’s a spent volcano under all the water, of course), where there are black swans. Which are more dangerous than you might think.

Notice how on the sign the beak illustrated is so that of a kea. Yeah? Must be a multipurpose ‘don’t feed the birds’ symbol, but makes me laugh everytime I look at it.

Then onto the steamy, smelly stuff in Kuirau Park. This is a thermal area you are free to wander around (there are paths to keep you safe) amongst the sulphur, bubbling mud and steam.

That evening I met up with my Magic bus friend who I’d been coincidentally trailing through the North Island, and we had a beer and talked about boys. Good stuff.

I had set myself the challenge of going mountain biking in Rotorua. The forest just outside the city has some of the best mountain biking trails in the country.

My roommate in the hostel (who hails from Bristol, UK!) would have joined me but she needed to go to work, so I was on my own. To get to the place, I needed to take the bus and then walk out to the start point for the trails, where there is also a company that rents out bikes, even to beginners like myself. The woman there handed me a map and showed me which trails she recommended, then off I went, starting with a warm up on the Kids Loop (don’t laugh). I moved on to more challenging trails but still within my ability…until the Creek Trail I was on suddenly went ballistic and there were some massive twists and turns. I got going too fast and knew what was going to happen. Now just to minimise the damage…  Yep, down I went! I have the battle scars that go with that, grrr, tough Tracy. But everyone knows what you do when you come off your bike. You get back on. (You are allowed a breather first, though.) It was a fantastic and exhausting experience and I’m thinking I should get a mountain bike when I return to Bristol! I just wish I’d had time for the Dipper

Slept soundly that night! Next morning was up for one more walk amongst the odours before my bus to Tauranga, my last stop before Auckland.

Tauranga is not as great as I’d hoped so far. I went on an estuary walk yesterday that incorporated far too much Big Noisy Road for my taste (as well as an unhelpful diversion where part of the route was closed but luckily I do like a puzzle). I then had a longer than desired walk to the nearest supermarket but I’d already worked out a fun evening plan to relax. Two main ingredients. 1) Treat myself to a falafel for dinner, and 2) go to the cinema, as it was Tuesday (and it’s cheap Tuesday at the cinema in Australia and NZ, for some reason). Falafel was tasty and the film was fine. Back to hostel, and to bed. NZzzzzzzz.

Today I’ll be taking the local bus to nearby Mt Maunganui, which should hopefully be pretty. I’m in the mood for some nice scenery here in the so-called Bay of Plenty.

I Love NZ

Since my last post, I have made it from Kaikoura on the east coast, around to Abel Tasman National Park in the northwest. I guess I keep saying things like this, but I’ve really enjoyed the changes in the scenery, and just how very laidback it is here on the South Island.

After heading out of Kaikoura we stopped off at viewpoint overlooking a seal colony and watched lazy seals, playful young seals (in a pool we called the Kindergarten) and this fellow, gazing out to sea:

We stayed around the back of a somewhat grotty hostel that night, in Blenheim. We were in wine country now and felt it would be nice to do a wine tasting. But first! The exciting opportunity to try out the healthcare (for foreigners) when my strange ankle (if you know of that saga) acted up, swelling and turning red. We visited the hospital and I was told by the triage nurse there (a friendly Canadian) that it would be best to go to a doctor and be seen for $60 rather than $300. I agreed. At the GP, I was treated very nicely as well, and then at the chemist as well. Everyone was so… nice!  So even though I spent money on rather boring stuff it was less painful than it might have been. I’ll stop now, as it is boring.

So then we visited sustainable Grove Mill, where we tasted and learned. Bought a ‘late harvest 2006 Gewurztraminer’ (which I guess is posh, it certainly tasted delicious – we drank it a couple days later sitting in camp chairs and nibbling on crackers with brie and blue cheese, mmm). The woman at the winery told us about the Irish bar in Picton (where we were headed) that has live music on a Monday night. It was Monday afternoon. An evening plan was forming.

Picton is a lovely place. Small but with a bit of bustle at this time of year, as it is is the ferry port that connects with Wellington on the North Island. After some dinner in our campsite we walked into town, I took a few minutes to play on the local playground equipment (I can recommend the slide), then we found the Irish bar, where I can report they do a good pint of Guinness, even if it is a bit pricey. And Monday night music as promised.

Next day we did part of the Snout Walkway, our uphill climb in the rapidly increasing heat earning us a great view of Queen Charlotte Sound. We met a French guy, and he and J talked football as guys always seem to do when I go walking with them. Age old ritual or something. After lunch we bought petrol and groceries and then got on the road toward Nelson. It was a beautiful route (aren’t they always) and with Eric Clapton playing (via speakers, not live) we wound our way along, stopping to make dinner alongside a river and then later stopping at a layby next to a beach, initally for the view but then decided to stay there the night as there was a portaloo and standpipe. The beach for some reason had not only the usual things like shells but also jawbones. J and I each found one, while walking separate stretches of beach. The next morning while we munched muesli and seagull had a go on one of the jaws.

We couldn’t swim at this beach, too stoney, so the next morning we found a sandier one and had a bath. Here I am admiring the view:

Our destination for the day was Abel Tasman National Park – where we have now spent the past couple days, staying at a campsite called Old MacDonald’s Farm. It was very noisy here with that roar (is that the word) of the insects or whatever it is. I can’t explain the sound – it doens’t disturb sleep or anything but it does make you sometimes need to speak up rather A LOT to be heard.

We hired mountain bikes for the afternoon and explored with them for awhile. Visited a sculpture garden run by a local artists collective, such a creative and peaceful place.

The next day we were up early for our sea kayaking trip. We had freedom rentals but still needed to be briefed on equipment, safety and so forth but were on the water by 10ish. What can I say: it was a gorgeous day in a beautiful place.

 

Will add more photos when I can.

In the meantime, have I mentioned sandflies? Bastards.