Meet the Bicis!

After an amazing, food-filled weekend with friends, it was time to start cycling.  First step:  find our bikes.  We rented some hybrid touring bikes through a company based somewhere in southern Tuscany, and they had shipped our bikes up to a bike shop in Torino where we would meet them.  We figured this was perfect, because our friends lived in Torino.  A little mapquest to find the bike shop and… uh oh.  It seems that Torino is both a city and a province.  We were still a train ride and a bus ride away from our bikes, which were in a little town (in Torino province) called Vigone. 

Spending the weekend with our friends had given us a bit of a false sense of security and ease about making our way in Italy.  They picked us up from the train station, whisked us off to the Italian countryside, ordered delicious food, conversed with locals in Italian, knew where they were going… Now, we were on our own, and for the first time on the full-moon, really at a loss with language.  In Patagonia, Amy got to dust off her Spanish (and even Dave’s was passable enough to get by).  And in New Zealand, they might have talked with some lovely accents and the occasional odd turn-of-phrase… but it was still English.  But neither one of us has a clue when it comes to Italian. 

We didn’t get very far before we realized we were in for some crazy hijinks.  No, literally… we didn’t get very far.  We couldn’t even figure out how to open the door to leave Peter and Ritsu’s apartment building, until Peter came to our rescue!   Once we were successfully outside, it was a bus to the train station, a short train ride to the small city of Pinerole (soon to be hosting a stage of this year’s Tour de France, and former host to the curling competition during the 2006 winter Olympics), and then eventually a bus to the small town of Vigone – about as charming as it gets when you picture quaint Italian villages, with your little fruit shop, your little meat and cheese shop, beautiful old, church in the center, and surrounded by open farm land.  It seemed a strange place to be meeting our bikes… but sure enough, just outside of town, there was a really impressive bike shop, where our bicis were waiting for us. 

It seemed an unlikely place for a bike shop...

But sure enough... there it was!

  We could barely contain our excitement when we woke up the next morning and walked over to the bike store.  Our bicis are sleek silver KTM hybrid touring bikes… yes, they’re a bit heavier and slower than our road bikes back home… but they do have a granny-gear for serious mountain-climbing, and they come outfitted with two rear pannier bags for our luggage, and one has a top bag as well.  We were immediately relieved by the size of the pannier bags… we had no idea if what we’d brought would fit (and still didn’t), but at least we were hopeful.  We’d packed very light, but even still, with all the camping gear, running shoes, camera, laptop, and even just the minimal clothing… it added up quickly.



It may not seem like much for 3 weeks...
but it is when you have to fit it all onto a bike!



We took them for a quick spin in the parking lot, and they handled pretty well.  Pretty comfortable, too.  Of course, after we loaded them up with everything we owned, they handled a bit differently, with a whole lot of weight in the back.  As it was when we first learned to ride our road bikes, stopping (and staying upright) was initially the hardest part.  Our bicis tend to have a mind of their own when it comes to parking, as all that weight settles precariously on the little kick-stand. 

Packing up the Bicis!

Of course, our bicis needed names.  Initially, we were going to go with “Mario” and “Luigi” (and then, when Quang arrives, we’ll name his “Princess Peach”, for you Super-Mario Brothers fans out there).  But we decided they needed more extensive names, so we spiced them up with a few of our favorite Italian phrases. 

So, meet the bicis!:  “Mario Non Posso Manjare Glutine Kovick”, and “Luigi Panacotta Gelato Arrivederci Mama Mia Prego  Kovick”.

Lots of adventures to come over the next three weeks on our bicis Mario and Luigi… Until then, Ciao, bicis!

And here's what Mario and Luigi look like, ready for action!

Seventeen Courses in Twenty-Four Hours

There is no doubt, Italians can eat. 

Growing up with an Italian grandmother, I have great memories of hours and hours around the dinner table, with plates and plates of endless food being passed, each plate-full somehow even better than the last. 



The vineyards of Langhe and Roero, just outside of Torino



Within just an hour of arriving in Italy, we were whisked away to the Italian countryside where food that seemed so familiar awaited.  Lots, and lots of it.  So much that even a Fong or a Tuttle would be intimidated.

Don't let the cute face fool you...
When I confronted Julius about
his flirtations with Amy, he replied:
"I don't want to marry her.  I just want to kiss her."

Dave’s friend, Ritzu, her husband Peter, and the cutest kid in Italy: their son Julius have been living in Italy over the past 6 years.  They graciously invited us to the Italian countryside for the weekend- showing us some of their favorite places and feeding us some of their favorite Italian dishes.  Many, many dishes.



The church in Guanere



Our first stop was Mira Langhe, a quaint agriturismo (a sort of rustic bed and breakfast with farmland), in the small village of Guanere.  While we enjoyed the sweeping view of the surrounding vineyards our meal started, as in my mind all meals should, with a platter of prosciutto, salami, and cheeses.  (my prosciutto and cheese intake since arriving in Italy is quite impressive, I must say) Then the meal continued with 6 more courses.  Each one somehow better than the last, just like Gram’s.  The next day we travelled down the road, just a bit, to Agriturismo Cascita Veron just outside of Canale with 6 more courses.

And just when I was sure I was done eating for a few days, we stopped by another friend of Dave’s, Malcolm and his partner Patritzia, swimming with Julius and of course being offered 4 more courses of irresistible appetizers followed. Malcolm is not only a gourmet officinado but also a gourmet chef in his own right.

That's no poster behind Amy and Julius...
that's the surreal view from Malcolm and Patriitzia's pool.

I was so excited by our first and second Italian meals that I felt the need to take pictures of each and every plate.  Peter says it perfectly when he calls it “Food Porn”  Bon Apetit! 

Murphy’s Law

Our trips to Patagonia and New Zealand didn’t start out very smoothly, and they both turned out amazing… so if that trend continues, we’re in great shape for part 3 of the full moon… because pretty much everything that could go wrong, went wrong at the start of this trip.

It started before we even left.  We were up in NH for a few quiet days in the mountains before heading off to Europe, and it seems Amy left all of her ATM and credit cards up there… which we discovered as we were packing to leave.  Oops… that might complicate things a bit, but we plan to spend most of our time together, so it shouldn’t be too big of a problem.  For those of you keeping score at home, we’re now down 1 ATM card and 1 credit card. 

Switzerland was pretty...
though not the smoothest of trips for us!

We flew over to Switzerland on Air France.  Because I was headed over for work, I was fortunate enough to fly business class.  But that can sometimes be a curse as well as a blessing… I think it might have been the lobster claw appetizer, which I couldn’t pass up, even though I wasn’t particularly hungry… it hit me halfway through the flight, and I was feeling absolutely terrible.  I assumed it was my food allergy… which meant I was definitely going to be sick sometime soon.  By the time we landed in Paris, it was clear we were going to need to delay our connecting flight to Switzerland.  We headed to the airport emergency medical center… the only place in the airport where they proudly display photos of the best plane crashes in recent years at the airport.  My timing was impeccable, as I proceeded to get sick in their bathroom immediately upon arrival… (and then again little while later in a restroom in the terminal… and then one more time for good luck).  Score:  -1 ATM card, -1 credit card, and -1 lobster claw appetizer.

We figured that was the end of it… that’s how my allergy usually works.  So we boarded the flight to Switzerland… but I was feeling worse and worse and worse.  It suddenly dawned on me that this was a lot more like my mystery Patagonia illness than my allergy.  By the time we landed in Zurich, I was a mess.  I’d been sweating profusely, writhing in pain on the plane… I’m sure the flight attendants must have thought I was a drug mule gone bad.  I was so disoriented when we landed – and so desperately in need of a medical clinic – that I left my passport on the plane.  Oops.  We realized it right away, in the baggage area.  Amy asked them to check the plane… the only place it could possibly be.  Yet they reported that it could not be found.   Score:  -1 ATM card, -1 credit card, -1 lobster appetizer, and -1 passport.

So, to the medical clinic… where they hooked me up to an IV, took an ultrasound, did some other tests, and gave me some pain medicine.  (Yes, ladies, my spleen was -- yet again -- impressively large).  Score:  -1 ATM card, -1 credit card, -1 lobster appetizer, -1 passport, and -$600 in medical fees, which we’re not really sure will be covered by our less-than-robust health insurance plan.

Fortunately – though still very weak – I recovered enough to rally and lead the training workshop that brought us to Zurich in the first place (and was going to be financing the third leg of our honeymoon).  Amy set about trying to put our life back together.  First stop: get some Euros from the bank machine.  She took my ATM card and PIN number… not realizing I have 2 ATM cards with different PIN numbers.  When she entered the wrong PIN code, the machine swallowed the card, and could only return it by mail to our bank in the US.  Score:  -2 ATM cards, -1 credit card, -1 lobster appetizer, -1 passport, and -$600 in medical fees. 

Next stop: purchase a phone calling card, to call the bank, to release the ATM card from the clutches of the Banc Suisse machine.  But when she went to pay for the $25 card, the clerk actually read the name on the card (blast those Swiss and their attention to detail) – Amy clearly wasn’t David Kovick– and so they refused to release the phone card… even though it had already been charged to our credit card.  We had to return together so I could sign the slip and get the phone card… which turned out to be a replaceable SIM card, which aren’t compatible with US phones, and which they claimed they could no longer refund for some reason.  Score:  -2 ATM cards, -1 credit card, -1 lobster appetizer, -$600 in medical fees, +1 unusable phone card.

The next morning, it was on to the US consulate in Bern, for an emergency passport.  Aside from the $250 in train tickets and the $130 to replace the passport, that part of the operation went surprisingly well.  I had a new passport within 2 hours. And, when the nice lady at Air France phoned several days later to tell me they’d had my original passport all along, and couldn’t understand why I hadn’t come to claim it… well, that brings us to our final score:   -2 ATM cards, -1 credit card, -1 lobster appetizer, -$600 in medical fees, -$380 for an emergency passport, +1 unusable Swiss phone card, and +1 cancelled US passport. 

It’s not always smooth sailing on the Full Moon… But there’s always a bright side.  The freelance work in Switzerland will provide us with our first paycheck in about 6 months, which definitely isn’t a bad thing, and we’re off to Italia to spend it already on some more carefree honeymoon adventures. 



The Full-Moon Interlude

Upon returning from our adventures in beloved New Zealand, we took a somewhat planned 2 month stint away from our full-moon.  The original plan was to be back in the US for April and to continue our travels in May.  As it turns out, though, it’s very expensive to quit your jobs and travel the world. . . Who knew?  So, we thought we would take advantage of some work Dave was offered in Europe in June, before part III of the Full-Moon.  We’re calling our time in April and May the Full-Moon Interlude. 

April was filled with happy things.  We had birthdays, a marathon, and a wedding. The days in between were filled with lots of time with friends, family, and our favorite puppies.

Then May came.  Hmmm.  All those big events we came home for had passed.  Hmmmm. Everyone went off to work.  We slept in.  We caught up on some of our favorite TV shows.  Honestly, we weren’t feeling like real winners. As Dave likes to put it and joke with my parents, after marrying me, he quit his job, convinced me to quit my job, spent our life savings travelling the world, and moved into his in-laws basement.  Maybe not exactly the partner every parent dreams of for their daughter. ; )

Over the next 2 weeks we poured our time and energy into a very thorough search for the perfect place to eventually call home. It felt kind of good to be so systematic and deliberate, while having a good time with it.  The candidates: Brattleboro, VT ; Portland, ME; Hanover, NH; Portsmouth, NH;  Amherst, MA; Northampton, MA. We spent a day in each town and had an extensive interview protocol for our site visits.  Our favorite question: If your town were to have a statue greeting visitors what would it be of and why?  Included in the visits was a trip to the local bike shop, a search for gluten-free pizza, a sip of the best coffee in town, a stop at the best off-leash dog-walking locale. . .  Very scientific, indeed.  Only two towns survived this crucible. The finalists: Portsmouth, NH and Northampton, MA.  Stay tuned!

After finding our potential perfect places to call home and still several weeks away from Full-Moon Part III, we started feeling a little purposeless down in the basement of 6 Oakwood Rd. 

Amy: “I’m feeling a bit purposeless.  We should either have a baby or train for an Ironman.” 

While the Fongs and Janet were pulling for the baby, our currently unemployed status (and accompanying lack of robust health insurance) along with a little push from our ambitious triathlon friends (TUTTS and ALI ) led us to sign up for our first Iron distance triathlon: Beach 2 Battleship (Wilmington, NC on Oct. 29, 2011).  That kept us busy for a while and will continue to over the next 5 months.  Thanks for helping us find a purpose, friends!

And then, it was time… Off to Europe for a little freelance work in Switzerland, and then on to Italy for the Full Moon Part III. 

Wait, Italy?  You were probably expecting us to be in Croatia.  That was the plan initially.  But somewhere along the way, in Iceland and New Zealand, we got inspired by some cycle-campers.  And that sounded like fun. So we thought we’d cycle-camp through Croatia.  However, it didn’t take much research to learn that neither the roads in Croatia nor its drivers are particularly friendly for cyclists.  So we thought we’d pick a more cycle-friendly country, like Italy, and save Croatia for next time. 

Bongiorno, Italia!  It’s time for the Full Moon, Part III.  Ciao bicis!

Soaking Up our Last few Days in New Zealand

Plenty of additional great statues to
be found on our drive back to Auckland

We can’t lie to you, loyal readers… we’re back in the states as we write this.  In fact, we’re writing this last NZ post from our global full-mooning headquarters in the basement at 6 Oakwood Road, in Paxton, MA.  We know… Our blog posts are never quite as good when we allow time to pass before writing them.  But we have a good excuse this time. 

We’d love to tell you it was a hectic, somewhat frenzied departure from NZ, and we just didn’t have time to write.  But it wasn’t… We had a smooth departure, with plenty of time to make our way back up to the North Island, and then back up to Auckland, and then on to the airport.

We’d love to tell you that Dave’s spleen was once again an unnatural (and impressive) size, and we were too busy continuing our study of public health systems around the world.  But we weren't.  Aside from a significant number of sand-fly bites, we’re both in fine health this time around. 

We’d love to tell you we spent all our money and couldn’t afford internet access in the last week, and therefore couldn’t write. That would at least be half-right… we certainly spent plenty of money.  But that didn’t stop us from doing anything else, and it definitely wouldn’t have stopped us from writing this last blog post.

And personally, Dave would love to be able to tell you that Amy gently placed Dougie in another ditch, and we were stranded on some isolated dirt road for days, preventing us from writing to you all.  But no, aside from a drained battery one morning, we had no car troubles to slow us down. 

No, dear friends, loyal readers, and Ira… the truth is, we were soaking in some hot springs… a whole lot of hot springs.  And given the choice between writing to all of you, or soaking in some incredibly relaxing hot springs… well, we’re not quite sure how to break this to you… But maybe try looking at it this way:  at least you came in second?

So, when we last left you, we were discussing how Dave has quickly learned in our first few months of marriage that Amy is always right.  We’d just hung up our tramping boots and put away our tent, caught an incredibly unlikely ride into Queenstown, enjoyed some of the most impressive burgers around, and were reunited with Dougie in our home-away-from-home, the Wanaka Top 10 Holiday Park. 

From there, we started our long journey northward, with about 5 days left to enjoy New Zealand on our way back up to Auckland.  We planned to do three things during our last few days in Aoteroa (New Zealand's Maori name, meaning 'the land of the long white cloud'):  we had a whole lot of miles to cover in our running shoes, a whole lot of kilometers to drive in our van, and a whole lot of hot pools to sample.



The famous church at Lake Tekapo...
not a bad view while praying for eternal salvation

 We first headed to Lake Tekapo, widely recognized as one of the finest places in the southern hemisphere for star-gazing.  The University of Canterbury built its observatory here, and the area is known for an unusual number of nights of clear skies, free from light pollution.  We climbed up Mt. John, where the telescopes are located, to the Astro Cafe, which our Lonely Planet promises is the finest place in the entire world to enjoy a cup of coffee.  360 degree views from the summit, with Lake Tekapo below, and the Southern Alps in the distance (home to Mt. Cook, NZ's tallest peak -- it's Maori name means 'cloud piercer', which is pretty darn cool).  Neither the views nor the coffee disappointed. 

Then it was time for some hot springs.  These, we learned, were not natural thermal pools… but they were still pretty cool.  They had built an outdoor ice rink (for skating and ice hockey), and somehow they use the byproduct energy from cooling the ice to heat the pools.  Perhaps one of you understands science better than us… we just thought it was neat… and fairly relaxing as wellJ.

From there, we headed north to Christchurch.  Somber sights, there, due to all the devastation from the earthquake.  We had big plans to spend our tourism dollars there as our contribution to the earthquake recovery.  But very sadly, every store we had researched in advance was either completely destroyed in the earthquake, undergoing renovations as a result of significant damage from the earthquake, or located in the central business district, which was completely closed off to all civilians due to the earthquake – maybe 10x10 city blocks.  It was some pretty staggering devastation.  We walked around a little, drove around a little, and then felt too much like tragedy voyeurs and decided not to linger -- instead we continued on up the coast.

After a few long training runs, a ferry ride back to the north island, and many kilometers of driving, we reached thermal country in NZ.  We spent one night at Waikati Falls – depending on how you look at it, it’s either a campsite that comes with its own thermal pools, or thermal pools that come with a campsite.  Either way, it’s a pretty fantastic concept.  We’ve told you in previous blogs that we think all tramps should come with their own hot springs.  We’d like to amend that statement to now include all drive-in campsites as well.  Ending a long day of driving by staring up into the Milky Way while soaking in some thermal pools… what could possibly be better than that?  Perhaps only waking up the next morning and starting the day with another soak in those same glorious hot springs. 

We explored Rotorua the next morning.  It’s one of the most famous tourism destinations in New Zealand – known for its thermal geysers and boiling mud pots.   But just not really our scene… a bit too touristy for us.  So we cruised out of there, continued northward, and stayed just outside of Waihi Beach… at another campsite with its own hot springs!  We could really get used to this whole ‘soak in the morning, soak in the evening’ routine that we were getting into!  One last training run in NZ the next morning (followed of course by one last soak in those hot springs), and we continued up to Auckland. 

Soaking in hot springs our last few days was a great way to reflect back on all the wonderful experiences we had in New Zealand – exploring the country's incredible natural beauty, meeting some really great Kiwis, and falling through NZ’s beautiful skies.  We really fell in love with this place.  From Cape Reinga in the north, where the oceans met… to the beautiful alpine peaks around Mt. Aspiring in the south… NZ is definitely one of the most beautiful places one can imagine.  We’d definitely be living here, if it weren’t so incredibly far awayJ.

It was a teary goodbye with Dougie… he was really good to us, and we’re going to miss him dearly.  Please, friends, if our blog has inspired any of you to visit NZ, we know a great van that would love to show you the sights.  Just let us know in advance, so we can send you with his disco ball… 

Good Karma… Or, My Wife is Always Right, by David Kovick

So, finishing the Cascade-Saddle Tramp was just the first part of the story that day… we now needed to get back to our home/van, Dougie… which was parked 150km away in Wanaka.  The Cascade-Saddle, like a lot of the great multi-day hikes in New Zealand, is a point-to-point hike – meaning you start in one place, and end in another… really far away.  So you have to figure out how you’re going to get back when you’re done.  Originally, we’d bought bus and shuttle tickets for the rides from Wanaka to Raspberry Creek, where the tramp started ($35 each), Chinaman’s Bluff where the tramp ends back to Queenstown ($50 each), and the bus from Queenstown back to Wanaka, where Dougie was safely parked ($25 each).  Grand total = $220… All that beauty at the top of Cascade Saddle Pass doesn’t come cheap! 

My dear wife Amy thought it would be more fun (and cost-effective) if we hitch-hiked, instead of taking the shuttles and buses.  I was a bit reluctant… it’s the shoulder season, so those empty trails we’ve been enjoying also mean fewer cars heading to those trailheads… and at the end of the hike, we’d be kind of stuck (and screwed) if we couldn’t find a lift.  Amy has this romantic notion of hitch-hiking ('think of all the interesting people we can meet while going from place to place!'), while i have what i would consider to be a more realistic view (sitting around waiting for a ride that may or may not come, instead of going from place to place).  So we compromised… we hitched to the start of the hike (and spent our $70 savings on dinner-and-a-movie date night at the Wanaka theater), and kept our reservations for the shuttles and buses at the end of the tramp. 

But as it turned out, we ended up finishing a day earlier than we’d expected.  (We’d planned an additional night on another ridge, but with a later start than expected on the first day, didn’t think we could make it.  In the end, our legs ended up having plenty of climbing without an extra day of lots of up… followed by lots of down). 

So, we finished hiking on Day 4 around 12:30pm, with a shuttle pick-up scheduled for the next day at 2:00pm.  ‘No problem’, says Amy… ‘we can hitch a ride, cancel our shuttle, save lots of money, and have an extra day to spend somewhere!’ 

Many of you may not know this about me… but one of the reasons that I’m usually so laid back is that I do a lot of ‘worst-case-scenario/contingency planning’ in my head.  I think through the different ways a situation might likely turn out, get comfortable with the least desirable scenario and realize it’s usually not the end of the world, and then can embrace my typically care-free attitude.  So I did that…

Scenario 1:  we catch a ride with some trampers hiking out (…but we didn’t see THAT many people at the last hut who would be hiking out… and they looked much more like the kind of people who might be looking to hitch a ride FROM us, rather than have a ride to offer). 

Scenario 2:  We catch a ride with some day-hikers that have come to the end of our hike for a short day out (…but there were some pretty cool glaciers to be seen on a short day-hike at the start of our hike, and our hike ended in the flats… not the kind of day-hike that attracts a lot of folks… and it’s still the shoulder season).

Scenario 3:  We catch a ride with the shuttle… maybe some other hikers have scheduled the shuttle for that day, or maybe they just screwed up our reservation and would come a day early on accident? (…but as previously described, not so many hikers headed out, and they don’t really look responsible enough to have arranged a shuttle… and the shuttle accidentally coming the wrong day but the day we happen to need it?  I’m starting to grasp at straws here).

Scenario 4:  We’re spending the night at Chinaman’s Flat… for lunch, dinner, breakfast and lunch the next day, we’ll be having hot water flavored with beef bullion, half of a peanut butter sandwich (jelly finished up already), a bag of dried mango, and some hot cocoa.  Oh, and the heavens have darkened, the wind is whipping up, and a major storm is predicted.  But at least there’s a shelter… which is unfortunately infested with sand-flies.  But I’m enjoying my book, we’ve got a great tent, and plenty of warm clothes.  It won’t be that bad.  We’ll have something to laugh about later. 

Comfortable with my scenarios, I was now ready to tackle the question of transportation out of there.  In the last ½ hour of our hike, the 6 people that had stayed at the hut the night before passed by us (have we mentioned that we’re not super-fast hikers?).  Our eyes lit up… Scenario 1, perhaps?  Amy pushed us forward, attempting to keep them in our line of sight.  As it turned out, the scruffy looking Europeans DID have a van… but apparently they’d bonded with the other American couple that stayed in the hut with them.  Blast!  We tent-dwellers can never overcome the bonds formed among the hut-dwellers… We watched as they moved all of their baggage around to make room for 6 people to drive happily away in their camper-van… leaving us with our sand-flies, whipping winds, darkening skies, and soon-to-be-falling torrential rains.

Scenario 2 wasn’t looking so good either… The parking lot was pretty sparse.  Not so many day-hikers in these parts.  Amy held out hope for a shiny new Dept of Conservation truck, until I explained that it probably belonged to the hut warden that was at least two-days walking away.  Scenario 3?  Not so likely, given that there were no other trampers finishing the hike that day.  Everyone at the last hut on the route was now accounted for:  6 happy hut-dwellers in their campervan, heading for showers, burgers and laundry in Queenstown, and Amy and Dave preparing some peanut-butter sandwiches while dodging sand-flies. 

Things were looking bleak.  I started to prepare Amy for the fact that we’d be spending the night there.  I was just glad that we had the shuttle coming the next day, at the very least… because had we gone with Amy’s plan and cancelled all of our shuttles, we could have been stuck there for who knows how long. 

Still, my wife, ever the optimist, held out hope:  “Maybe someone will come this way just out for a scenic drive?”  I had to laugh this one off… and explain to Amy that people didn’t come 75km from Queenstown, for a scenic drive, to look at some river flats.  So she started to prepare our ½ of a peanut butter sandwich. 

Suddenly, we hear a car in the distance… driving towards the parking lot… pulls up to the river… stops… turns around… starts to head back out.  Dave, using his most winning, sheepish smile, puts out his thumb.  The car stops… back up… and offers us a ride.  They started by explaining that they NEVER pick up hitch-hikers, but just this once, why not?  We asked what brought them out this way:  “Just out for a scenic drive.”  I can’t make this stuff up.  10 minutes have passed since we arrived at the parking lot. 



 

Enjoying a burger with our saviors, Colin and Deb

We ended up having a wonderful ride with our new NZ friends Colin and Deb.  They lived in a small town about an hour south of Christchurch, and were on a short holiday in Queenstown.  (Thought they’d take a drive for the day, to see where that particular road ended). It was really great fun to talk with them about the area, get some perspectives on everything from sheep farming, to rugby teams, to the local controversies over possum control.  Among other things, Colin works as a volunteer fire-fighter and a member of NZ’s Urban Search and Rescue Unit.  Amazingly, the unit had never been deployed in its 17-year existence, and the government was considering the option of disbanding it… just as the first Christchurch earthquake hit last September.  He was deployed then, and again when the February earthquake hit (we’ve since been to Christchurch and seen the damage… it’s truly staggering).  He was personally part of 6 life-saving rescues.  As he was finishing up his work there, the Japan quake hit, and NZ sent his team up to Japan (Japan had sent a team to NZ in its hour of need, and even given what NZ had just been through, they wanted to reciprocate in Japan’s time of need).  Pretty incredible stuff.

When we arrived in Queenstown an hour or so later, we were thrilled that they let us thank them by taking them out for Ferg-Burgers.  What’s a Ferg-Burger, you ask?  It’s really worthy of its own blog-post.  Lonely Planet describes it as the greatest burger in NZ, and possibly the entire world.  Don't worry -- I may be down a few kilos, but I'm still a Clydesdale, and I didn’t disappoint any of my fans out there.  I ordered the ‘Big Al’ – the biggest burger on the menu.  ½ pound of pure NZ angus beef, ‘a whole lotta cheese’, bacon, lettuce, tomato, a beet, and 2 fried eggs… on a gluten-free bun.  And not to be out-done, Amy impressively polished off her burger, Mr. Big Stuff, which was everything the Big Al was, minus the beet and the eggs.  (Colin went for the ‘Tropical Swine’ – pineapple and bacon on his burger, and Deb went for the original ‘Ferg-Burger’).  Needless to say, no dinner was necessary that night.  Deb and Colin invited us to stop by their home on our way up north, but unfortunately, we were heading through their town before they’d be returning.  Then they wanted to know where else they could take us that would be more convenient for us.  Really great people that we were really lucky to meet.  (You might be lucky to meet them too… we left them a note offering places to stay all over the US if they make it this way… with all of our friends around the countryJ).

The "Big Al":  One impressive burger...



Anyway, not wanting to push our karma too far, we took the bus from Queenstown to Wanaka, where we were happily re-united with Dougie.  And the next day, we cancelled our scheduled shuttle and received a further refund.

As it turned out, hitch-hiking our way home provided a unique and great experience in and of itself – and a wonderful end to our last tramp.  What can I say?  My wife is always right.

Going Out with a Bang

Full Moon Part I:

                Distance Trekked: 163.99mi (to be exact)

Full Moon Part II:

Distance Tramped:  129.51mi

Full Moon Part III:

                Distance Planning to Hike/Backpack: very few miles

In South America they call this thing we love to do trekking.  In New Zealand it’s tramping.  The US doesn’t really have a great word for it.  Backpacking seems to connote we are travelling around, in and out of cities, with a big pack- like the way you might travel through Europe on a Eur-Rail pass.  Hiking suggests you’re out on the trails but does not necessarily make it clear that you’re carrying a big pack and spending multiple nights out in the wilderness.  Whatever you want to call it, Dave and I have been doing a whole lot of it.  After some 293.5 miles (but who’s counting, really?) of this trekking/tramping/backpacking/hiking stuff we decided we are ready to retire our boots for a bit, but not before one last adventure.  Why not go out with a bang?

The Tramp: Cascade Saddle

Duration: 4 days

Distance: 61.5km (38.13mi)

Difficulty (according to our bible-Lonely Planet): Demanding

Text Box Warning?: Absolutely

We’ve started choosing our tramps by seeking out the ones whose descriptions include a text box warning.  Basically, we like the ones with a little bit of impending danger (usually it only happens if you’re really stupid).  Whether its flash floods, steep slippery slopes, shaky bridges, the list goes on we translate the warnings as “this is a tough tramp where you will see amazingly beautiful things and will need to be careful while doing it”.   These tramps usually end up being just perfect for us.  Cascade Saddle was no different. 

Trixie?  Is that you?

Day 1: The adventure started with a little hitchhiking to get us to Mt. Aspiring National Park, outside of our dear Wanaka.  After about a 30 minute wait, a German girl who has been living in New Zealand for the past four years, picked us up in her sweet van named Samsara.   Samsara took us down bumpy dirt roads, through flocks of sheep that served as road blocks, and gracefully through a few shallow rivers (with Dave’s help).  For the entire ride the backdrop was the beautiful mountains, getting bigger and bigger, that make up Mt. Aspiring National Park.

The hike to the first hut, Aspiring Hut was a short one, just a couple of hours, following the beautiful Matukituki River with a few ups and downs.   Our packs were feeling a bit heavy-maybe due to being out of practice after having a few days of rest in between tramps or the fact that we just saw the movie 127 hours. I may have packed a few extra things, just in case.   We enjoyed the mostly leisurely feel to the day knowing the following day was said to be A KILLER.

Fair reward for some serious climbing

Day 2:  Day 2 did NOT fail to deliver- a killer, indeed. The climbing began just after leaving the hut.  And went on, and on, and on for 5 HOURS and a 1400 METER ELEVATION GAIN—STRAIGT UP! Part tramping, part ROCK CLIMBING. . . with a 40lb. pack (45lb. for some of us who once  fit the Clydesdale category). That’s a whole lot of climbing, mates.  But with every climb on a tramp you are rewarded by not only a decline (like in running and cycling, but more like running cause it kind of hurts) but the MOST beautiful of views.  It’s the climbs that bring us to the places on our trip that become the most memorable, the scenes that stay with us even when we head home, miles and miles away.   This climb was no different.  At the top we were greatly rewarded by 360 degrees of natural beauty- the mountains and river we hiked along the day before on one side, the gorgeous Dart glacier on another, and lastly, the most impressive of all, Mt. Aspiring, standing nobly at 10,000+ft.-truly deserving of being the park’s namesake.  As my dear husband put it so eloquently, “This is like f*cking LORD of the RINGS sh*t. “  I couldn’t have said it any better. 

Mt. Aspiring... mighty impressive

The trail led us right into the magnificent Dart Glacier, which we followed to its foot (and then followed its river, the Dart river for the next 2 days).  Ten and a quarter hours later and spirits still high, we arrived at Dart Hut, marking the end of day 2.  It was more hours, more elevation gain, and more snacks eaten than any other day of tramping/trekking/ hiking/backpacking  (we’ve discovered that the key to our tramping happiness is a positive mental attitude and sufficient snacks- we think it might be a key parenting strategy someday too).   We rested just as well as we climbed.

The Dart Glacier... pretty cool!

Day 3- A hard day of climbing is usually followed by a “lazy” day-a late wake-up for our tired bodies and some super slow walking. We didn’t get moving until 11 or so, our calves and quads continuing to wake-up each step we took. We were in and out of the majestic forest and onto the wide-open flats all while continuing to follow the Dart River.  After eight hours, of pretty slow going, we arrived at Daily’s Hut bustling with the voices of 6 other trampers.  We slept outside in our tent accompanied by the sandflies- the only feature of this entire country that I don’t like.

Seriously.... Is this not Lord of the Rings sh*t?

Day 4- I’m always early to rise on the last day of our tramps and I tend to move a little faster on these days too.  On days 1-3 tramping IS the activity of the day but on  day 4, or the last day of any tramp, there’s other things to follow-other things to look forward to-showers, burgers, a nap- reason to move a little faster.  We continued along the lovely Dart River and reached the section where the Jetboats zoom by.  We waved and maybe even stuck out our thumbs for a ride.  Day 4 and we were STILL recovering from that climb!  We were happy to see the politically incorrect named Chinaman’s Flat, marking the end of our early temporary (?) retirement from tramping. 

65km in all and some of the most beautiful views in all of New Zealand helped us end a good run of that tramping/trekking/hiking/backpacking stuff we love, going out with a bang.