NZ Trip Photos!

I arrived in Queenstown (NZ's "adventure capital") in the afternoon. It was drizzling, but sunny, and I saw a rainbow as the plane taxied in. Serious jet lag. Ralph was waiting for me, holding a sign with my name. He took me for coffee at the Queenstown airport, which helped, and he built my bike for me in the parking lot. I rode it around for a minute to test my seat height/handlebars, etc. and promptly got a flat. Leave it to me! Then we went to the famous bungee bridge and stood on it right at the platform, watching the jumpers take off. I was unable to summon the courage/energy to jump. It didn't even occur to me to take pictures. I was in a fog. Ralph took me to the motel, and it was, well...suite. Full kitchen, living room, jet tub, lake view, in-room washer and dryer, even! He made me promise not to take a nap before dinner, because he said I wouldn't be able to rouse myself. He told me to take a walk around the downtown area instead. So I did. I tried out my new camera:
























I was starving. But while I was strolling around, I realized I'd forgotten my wallet in my room. I started heading back, and realized I had no idea where "back" was. My room key didn't say the name of the motel. I didn't have Ralph's cell number (and I didn't have a cell phone to call with, anyway). I think the jet lag/"driving on the wrong side" combo was really disorienting. I totally panicked, and walked around for at least an hour in all directions until I found my way back. Whew! Ralph gave me his business card after that.

Cycling Tour

Day 1: 50 miles (our shortest but "steepest single ascent" day). After 10 hours of sleep and an early breakfast homemade by Axel, I rolled over this nice bridge and out of Queenstown...

...heading for the switchbacks of the Crown Range. As Axel (our "German living in NZ" guide) rode up the mountain with me, he said, "this is going to be somewhat similar to Mt. Diablo" (the Crown Range was about 3,000 feet of climbing over about 11k, and was steepest closer to the top), which was surprising to hear on the other side of the world. He told me he'd done Mt. Diablo several times during a visit with his uncle, who lives here in the East Bay. I took this shot from the top (the lake that you see set way down in between the hills is Queenstown, our starting point):


Then we descended into Wanaka:

Day 2: We rode out of Wanaka and headed to the rainforest and the west coast (Haast). It was over 92 miles, and 1,380 meters (4,500 feet) of climbing. The pace was fast as hell too (for no reason in particular), so I was dying by the end.




































Day 2 was also the day that David (from London) got hit by a car. It was a deliberate hit and run. I was riding a bit behind him at the time, so I almost bit it too. The car was honking at us while approaching us from behind. Then the car slowed next to us and continued next to David (I assumed to ask for directions, but I guess he was just annoyed at us for taking up too much road). David said, "Isn't the road big enough?" To which the guy responded by gunning it, pulling in front of David, and then slamming on his brakes. David had no time to brake; he hit the car and crumpled to the ground. His bike was jacked, as was his knee. And I just stood there like an idiot asking him if he was OK over and over instead of capturing the guy's plate # with my camera! I had barely managed to avoid hitting David (I ran off the road into the grass to avoid a collision) and was in complete shock. Anyway, the guy was still sitting there in his car where he'd stopped, like he wanted to get out and fight. David thought he then heard the woman in the car tell the driver to keep going; they took off. The police were called (Barry, from NZ, followed up in every town from there to the end of the tour - there were very few turnoffs from our route, so they had to be there somewhere), but they were never found. David managed to fix his bike and continue, but his knee bothered him for the rest of the trip. Pretty extreme, but I did find that the roads are generally inhospitable to road cyclists there compared to here (NZ motor vehicles, and in particular the bazillion double-trailer trucks that passed me, mostly ignored the "share the road" signs, and there was rarely any shoulder to speak of). Then again, a teammate of mine suffered a similar assault in the East Bay hills recently, during a group ride...

Day 3: We rode out of Haast and continued up the west coast for another 90+ miles...

...to the Fox and Franz Joseph glaciers.

You have to click on the glacier photo to get a good perspective on its size. There's a tiny red dot in the middle, at the bottom, on the flat land below the glacier. That's a person. Of course, glaciers are receding in general, world-wide. But this one has been advancing in recent years. I dunno why, something to do with the freeze/thaw cycle and the layers.

Day 4: REST DAY! Which is a good thing, because I was totally wiped out. I walked around the sleepy town of Franz Joseph, found an Internet shop where I caught up on some email, and took a 3-hour nap in the middle of the day (even though I'd been getting 8 solid hours of sleep per night!). That night, we had a bbq on the motel's grill, my favorite dinner yet (the minted lamb at Speight's Ale House in Wanaka was a close second).



Axel's an incredible cook. He made breakfast for us every morning in his room (NZ motels have full kitchens in the rooms).



So lets see, that's French press coffee, eggs, fresh fruit salad, homemade porridge, juice, bread/jam/honey, and yes, that's a champagne bottle. There were some pancakes too. He also made the food for our lunch stops, and it was awesome.

Day 5: After breakfast in Franz Joseph, we rolled out, continuing up the coastal road for another 89-mile ride up the west coast, this time to Hokitika. On the way, we stopped at the "Bushmans Centre" for a taste of the "deep south," NZ-style. We were on South Island, after all.

Yup, they sold minced possum pies (meat pies are a staple of the NZ diet, though not necessarily possum). New Zealanders hate possums, because they're ecologically destructive. Possums can eat a whole forest of native NZ trees in one winter (they are not native to NZ). We stopped here for a bite (no possum pie for me), and to tour the museum and watch Pete's homemade hunting movie (mainly videos of guys jumping out of helicopters to tackle deer -- it was pretty funny when they missed).

A random observation: New Zealanders are flummoxed by the apostrophe. They leave it out when it should be there (see sign above), and vice versa (e.g.: "We have great mince pie's!"). I saw this everywhere I went, on both the north and south islands.

Hey! Are you in the market for a possum wedding dress?

OK, that's a little too "Flintsones." But lots of wool NZ clothing is actually made of a merino wool/possum fur mix. That pretty much ruled out a lot of pretty gloves/hats/scarves that I'd otherwise have considered great gifts for certain people back home. I just didn't know how they'd react, so I didn't go there. But it's too bad, because they were nice. Stop being such an irresponsible vegetarian, and save the forests, for crying out loud! Wilmaaaa!

Where was I? Oh yeah.We got to stay in our own beach-front cottages in Hokitika!
I took a photo of the sunset from my balcony.










And here I am, having a terrible time, as we made our way to dinner along the beach. The cost of almost all meals was included in the tour, except my first dinner in Queenstown, and lunch/dinner in Franz Joseph on our rest day. Generally, we'd go to a restaurant for dinner, and we could order anything on the menu. So I tried lots of stuff. In Hokitika, I had oysters. They were delicious.



Day 6: We continued up the coastal road toward Westport, on this 86.5 mile day. I ate a quick breakfast and took off early with Barry, because I was feeling tired and needed a jump on the day. He let me draft, and we made steady progress. David and Ralph only caught us after my spectacular fall. Yeah. We were coming up on yet another (of about a gazillion so far) narrow one-lane bridge. Only...this one doubles as an operational railroad trestle. Are you a civil engineer? Are you looking to move to NZ? I'm sure you'd have no trouble finding work.

The scene:
As you can see, the tracks run parallel to traffic on the road. We had to get left (you ride/drive on the left side in NZ) to wait our turn on the bridge. And I was saying to Barry, "after we cross, I want to stop and take a picture.." and I wasn't paying close enough attention as I crossed the tracks (because I was running my mouth), and my wheel got stuck, and I went down. Hard. The weird part is that I really hurt my heel (?!) of all things, and even though I skidded on my backside and got a huge bruise and road rash underneath my Team Oakland Shorts , there wasn't a single rip! After the pain passed and I stopped screaming/asking Barry several times if my bike was OK (I really was lying on the ground on my back, screaming - I thought I'd broken my tailbone - and Barry was waving all the cars through; "she's fine, she's fine, go ahead..." - he's a mental hospital nurse), I asked Barry to check if my ass was hanging out, and he assured me that my shorts were intact. Amazing. He made some minor bike adjustments for me and it was ready to go. Also amazing. Then Ralph and David showed up, and Barry told them they should have been there 3 minutes ago for the "show" (apparently I'd just expanded his international cursing vocabulary, though I don't know what I said). Then Ralph said, "But Laura! Didn't you see the sign?!" And I'm all, "what sign?" So he went back a few meters with my camera and took a picture of it:

Doh. Fortunately my injuries were in places that didn't bother me while I was cycling, so I was able to continue with almost no pain. Which was cool, because the coastal road got absolutely breathtaking.

We stopped at Pancake Rocks for lunch:

Day 7: We left the coast and headed eastward to St. Arnaud, on our final day before the race! This was a 100-mile day (maybe not the smartest training strategy to do a century the day before a race? On top of close to 2 centuries on the preceding days?); we would follow the Buller River...

...from the Tasman Sea, along the Buller Gorge, all the way to its source (Lake Rotoiti). Axel and I were the only ones who completed it; at one point, the van passed us, and Axel started laughing: "Look! Everyone's in the van!"

It was a really hairy ride that day; lots of dangerous curves, double trailer trucks, speeding motor cars, and no shoulder. There was even a sharp one-lane blind curve, on a cliff, with one of those round driveway mirrors staked into the ground so you can see if there's any oncoming traffic - in the middle of the highway with no warning! I pulled over to eat a bar because I'd noticed an approaching speeding sport utility vehicle and it made me nervous. It passed me and careened full-speed around that corner. I didn't even see that mirror, or know that corner lay ahead, until after I finished the bar and got to it on my bike. I wonder if I'd be dead right now if I hadn't stopped? Creepy thought. Almost everyone had close calls that day, not just me. I was right behind Axel when I watched a double trailer truck pass him with only centimeters to spare (at this point, I was starting to pull off into the gravel/grass whenever I heard one approaching; they don't slow down, and they don't move over! And the wind tunnel effect makes you feel really unstable as they go by. It's terrifying!). I screamed. I'm amazed Axel was able to hold his line (especially because he told me later that he heard me screaming, and he felt how close the truck was). He tried to sprint ahead and get the plate number, but he was unable to. The van came by and Axel sent it after the truck too, but it was gone. I saw it happen because Axel let me draft behind him for the entire last 60k of the ride. I was really dragging, and wondering how I was going to race the next day. He insisted on a detour to the lake (requiring another climb!) before we got to the motel, because he said I'd never see it otherwise.

The next day, I crashed and broke my right olecranon. Yeah, I didn't know what that was either. It's an elbow. I was doing the Grape Ride (100k). I thought it would be a great way to see NZ wine country, and we happened to be ending the tour nearby. But when I originally entered, I thought it would be like the Grizzly Peak Century (since it was called a "ride"). Fully supported with rest stops, etc. It turned out to be a race. No rest stops. I started out with a pretty fast group, in a rotating double paceline. I'd never done one of these before and had no idea how. But I figured it out and took my pulls. We were passing people right and left. But 10 miles in, I had been working hard and I really needed to drink. I was afraid to take my hands off the handlebars in such a fast, tight group, so I slowed and let a gap form. I guess the gap wasn't big enough. I was putting my bottle back in its cage when the group slowed and suddenly I was on someone's wheel again. I grabbed my left brake, pressed too hard, lurched, wobbled, hit the guy beside me, wobbled some more, and went down. So did he, but he was OK. He helped me to the side so no one would run me over, and he got my bike too. I kept telling him to go, because I felt bad, but he insisted on staying until a race marshal arrived on a motorcycle. I was bleeding quite a bit from my elbow and knee, but I could move them, so my main concern was the couple times I remember my head hitting the ground, and the headache. But I wasn't knocked out, so I figured I was OK. The marshal couldn't get my jacket off to look at my arm (it felt like she was pulling the skin off), so she suggested I shouldn't continue, and called for an ambulance. An ambulance support vehicle came; it was a sport utility vehicle. I was wondering how we'd fit my bike in there, to get back to the start, where the medical staff was waiting (obviously, I was not thinking clearly). The ambulance support guy suggested he patch me up with gauze so I could continue. The race marshal suggested he call the actual ambulance. He did, and I was taken to the ER in a real live ambulance ("we don't take bikes")! I had to share with another guy who was already in it, and who appeared to have similar injuries. Anyway, I was ambivalent. My poor bike was left at the scene, I didn't have insurance coverage for emergency care, we seemed to be heading out of town (this was confirmed when I asked - only one ER was open, and it was in a different town), and I didn't know how I'd get in touch with Axel, who would be taking me to the ferry (which would take me to my brother in the north island that night). Well, the EMT assured me that all was covered by the government ACC (whatever that stands for - yay socialized healthcare!), and the other casualty let me use his phone once we got to the ER (fortunately I had Ralph's business card on my person!). And I counted my blessings when I saw the guy they brought in after us. That guy was a bloody, moaning mess, poor thing. Head injury. The doctor felt my elbow (she was examining the cut, which wouldn't stop bleeding) and told the nurse to call radiology, because she felt a "palpable loose body." I was x-ray'd and it was broken. The cut was dressed, and then the nurse said, "I"m going to hurt you now." He bent my arm into a right angle to position it for the cast. I concentrated on not kicking him in the nuts, and I was successful. After a couple hours, more than a couple phone calls, and a bit of a wild goose chase to find my bike, it all worked out. I was in too much pain to enjoy the ferry, but I made it to my brother's, where I was glad to get 4 days of recovery before I had to cram my sore self onto a full, 11-hour flight.