Trip to Queenstown

One of the many generous gifts we received last year for our wedding was a full day of heli-skiing with a company here in New Zealand. Alpine Heli-ski fly out of Queenstown on the South Island when the weather is agreable and the snow is fluffy. And last weekend when we called to check on the conditions last friday we were given a full and resounding "Yes! We will be flying". So we quickly grabbed our skis, threw some warm clothes in the back of the car, and started driving.

Queenstown is a 6 hour drive from Christchurch. Down the coast, turn right, go inland, drive through the mountains, and stop once you hit Lake Wakatipu. Unfortunately for us, we did the drive after the school day (Stephen is in the middle of his second practicum) and it gets dark here around 6:30pm. So after one hour of driving in traffic to get out of Christchurch, 2 hours being pushed along the highway by a freight truck (hey, it's an old car), and 3 hours of driving down windier and windier roads in the dark we arrived to a locked, dark hotel (I was so pleased). But some hotel dwellers came along with their key and let us in, and after milling around in the lobby for 5 minutes the night watchman showed up and gave us our room keys. Phew. We dropped into bed, anxious for the awesome day of skiing we would have tomorrow.


The next morning Stephen was out of bed and pacing around the room at 6:30am (our alarm was set for 7:30am). We called the heli folks at 7:45am and were told to have breakfast and check in at 9am. Unfazed, we got into our long johns and touques and went out on the town to find some brekkers. For a town based on tourism there are some pretty nice little cafes, steep prices of course, but pretty good food. At 9am we hurried over to the heli-ski office to learn more. Two jovial guys were there, outfitted with fancy jackets and big smiles - that's a good thing, right?! They proceeded to show us the weather on the computer and show us the big weather system that had moved in overnight, bringing with it rain and 100km/hr winds. We were not going heli-skiing that day, but were instead refered to the one of the local ski fields that might escape the brunt of the wind.

We were surprisingly upbeat for the change in plans and spent the next hour wandering around town exploring the local artists market, sampling the delicious hot chocolate, and watching the ducks. Eventually we decided we still wanted to go skiing and headed up to Coronet Peak. The biggest ski field I had been to yet, with three chair lifts, a t-bar and three carpets (still haven't been on one yet). There was certainly some wind and lots of ice, but the day was warm and we were there for the last day of the New Zealand Winter Games. By 4pm when our lift tickets expired our legs were burning and we were quite ready to take a soak in the jacuzzi back at the hotel. That night we enjoyed some fresh seafood at a little restaurant and tucked into an absolutely delicious caramel, chocolate and puff pastry tower.


The next day, after one more walk around town, we climbed into the car and headed off towards home. Back through the mountains (with a stop at the lake where Stephen had his rowing competition), back towards the coast (took some pictures at Lake Tekapo), up towards Christchurch and almost home. That's when the transmission came undone. Literally. The gear stick came unattached from the transmission and we were stuck in third gear. It was getting dark and we were missing a bolt to hold the stick in place. So after a few minutes trying to fix it, we decided to just @%&#% it and drive it home in third gear. 18km later after much revving of the engine we pulled up to our driveway and gratefully tumbled out of the car and into the warm light of home. We'll try again next year.

Akaroa

Just some pictures from our trip in July with Stephen's mom to Akaroa.

Sprouting

It has finally arrived. After 11 months of winter, we have finally reached spring. Everywhere you look the daffodiles are springing up, the cherry blossoms are emerging from their tight cocoons of buds, and the sun is shining just a little bit longer and a little bit harder.

Something I have been looking forward to for a few years now is being in one place long enough to have a garden. Not a couple of containers with flowers, but a real garden with veggies and fruit and herbs. Now we don't live ina large place, nor do we have an enormous amount of space outside for cultivating, but with a little imagination and lots of inginuity we've made some space and I am busily sowing the seeds for my garden to come.

After much pleading, Stephen obligingly built me a wonderfully large wooden container to put right in front of our windows. I also spent some time scrounging around the big shed we have on the property and found some old potting containers that someone was throwing out. Behind said shed there is also a rather larger pile of composting fruit and vege and grass clippings, which after some digging produced some quite rich black soil to fill my containers with. Yippeeee!!!

I did splurge by buying some seeds from the store down the road from us, as well as some baby plants from the farmers market on Saturday. I planted the seeds in an old egg tray I had and covered them with plastic wrap to save them from the cats' sometimes curious mouth. Within a week I had some lovely little green heads poking through the dirt, and now 3 weeks later, I have many transplanted sprouts of tomatoes, basil, nasturtiums, and courgettes (still covered in saran - and cayanne). With a little luck and some nice weather, I may be able to plant my corn, lettuce, and spring onions outside in a few weeks. By the end of summer we should be able to open our window, pull out some food, and toss it in the pot 2 metres away. Now that is fresh food!

Smaug

I suppose I perhaps haven't made it as clear as it could be that Smaug, the lovely kitty we took in sometime in March (?), has come to stay. She has weddled her way into our hearts, curling up with us at night, welcoming us home with her pigeon-like coos and destroying our possessions with random spontaneity. But I suppose we are learning to live with this; putting cayanne pepper around my little sprouts for the garden, hiding the slippers with fur on them, stashing small squirt guns throughout the house, and my favorite, fillng the bathtub up with water to try and stop her peeing there. This last one is in fact teaching the cat to swim, and rather than dissuade her, she seems to really enjoy seeing how deep the water is today. . .

Introductions

I have found a new love. Stephen was not at all pleased when I annouced this to him. In the end however he came around, even walking with me for his first introduction to this new love. Vegemite. This was not a case of love at first sight. In fact I was terrified to begin with. It was only the tendre coaxing of those already enamoured that got me to take my first bite and lo, the flavour filled me with desire. It truly is a beautiful thing. And oh how perfect on a buttery piece of toast for breakfast (lunch or dinner or even snack). Delicious!

PS the key to this successful relationship is moderation, as with all things.

Te Taumutu

Te Taumutu runanga is a marae located on the shores of Te Waihora or Lake Ellesmere just south of Christchurch. On Wednesday, I went there for an overnight visit with a class I'm in on sense of place and maori and pakeha variations on the theme. Below are some photographs I took while there. It's a beautiful spot just 500m from the ocean and 1km from the shores of the lake which is the home of Tuterakihaunoa, who serves as the guardian of the lake and all the creatures that live there. You could hear him breathing when you were out on the beach with the coming and going of each wave tumbling the flat cobbles against eachother as they were pushed in shore and then pulled back out. The church is built on the location of an old pa (marae site) and is the resting place of some of the Taumutu marae's most prominent ancestors.

Snow Day!

Yaahhhhh!!!

We finally got out skiing. On our very own skis to boot. Stephen's mom was kind enough to lug our skis across the Pacific Ocean with her and I promised upon their receipt that I would tell her about the absolute joy we got from their being here (we HAD to use them).

We decided one Monday that neither of us had really important things to do and so it was decided skiing was to be done. We took one of the many ski buses leaving from Christchurch at 7am to one of the many ski hills within 2 hours driving time of town. 2 hours of course is accomplished in summer, with no traffic, and a driver who knows how to work the vehicle in question, not to mention a vehicle with more than a 1.6 Litre engine. 3 hours after we left, we were climbing into the ski bus that would take us up to the field.

There is a distinct different between ski 'hills' like there are in North America and the ski 'fields' here in New Zealand. Ski hills have trees and very distinguishable tracks to follow. Ski fields are bare with random 'tracks' drawn on a little map for you to use as you're making your way down the hill to ensure you don't accidentally end up on a black diamond. However, despite my initial sceptisism I thouroughly enjoyed skiing in a giant bowl, following naught but the good snow.

The other exciting discovery for me were the tow lifts. Unfortunately, the novelty wore off after about half way up the first lift (there are three to reach the top) as there is no chance to rest the legs or relax and survey the scenery (in case you cross your skis, fall down and get run over by the following 12 skiers and boarders). Once at the top though, the view was phenomenal and we could ski along the ridge top to reach some unskied portion of the mountain (and thus more powder).

It was a glorious sunny day and on the last run down from the very top, powder flying up behind at every turn, my ski decided not to stop when I did. Regrettably, my binding simultaneously decided it did want to stop. So on the last run, I was left with one ski on my foot and one ski slithering down the last 200m of hill to Stephen's feet and no chance of putting it back on. I have a new level of admiration (and awe) for people who ski with one ski, a skill I was unable to pick up in the last 200m to the bottom (much to the pleasure of many an onlooker I'm sure). As it was the end of the day there were no tears shed and all in all we ended the day on a high note smiling as we waited beside the highway for our bus (which drove home in an amazing 1 hour 45mins - however it works I know not).

So now all I have to do is fix my ski and we'll be back on the slopes once more.