Bike Photos (again, I know!)

So back on our anniversary, we did what every normal couple does. We went to work, then met up at the local trails to ride and take some nice couple-y pictures to commemorate our 4 years of marriage. 

The problem is we have very limited photography skills, and we were working with limited light and time. Our idea was that we would both ride this specific section of trail, then later "stitch" the two photos together. Anyways... the making of our "anniversary photo shoot":

Too soon.

Too far.

A bit close.

Scott really has exceptional timing.

After seeing art like those photos, how could you not be excited to see the final product? I mean, think of all the hard work and practice that went into shooting those pics! It was 15 minutes of my life. 

Hah, anyways. Stitching them together actually took more than 15 minutes of my life, and yes its riddled with imperfections but whatever. I think its a nice way to remember our wedding anniversary!

Ta-Dah!!!

Yes, we considered just riding it both at the same time, but the truth is the possibility of Scott hitting me in the head with his front wheel was real. This was safer.

Also for my anniversary present, Scott coached me through hitting this jump that has been my recent nemesis. And after I did it, like a good coach, he made me do it 5 times to ensure I had it. Or so he could practice taking pictures, of which the majority could compile a whole album titled "One Second Late".

My jump:

Nope, not snowing. Don't know how he does it! ;)

Just right!

Video Thursday: Scott Rides in Christchurch

I have been working non-stop since our trip to Auckland, so I have nothing for you. But Scott put together a cool video of him riding a favorite trail in Christchurch.

CLICK ME- WATCH VIDEO!

(Yes, I tried to upload it TWICE but Bloger is stuipidstupidstupid and can't get along with iMovie and doesn't support uploading from Vimeo [whathtehell] so please click on the link to be redirected to the video. Which I know is a pain and would annoy ME, because it should just play on the page you are looking at right now, but nnnnnooooooooooooo, Blogger isn't into that. End rant.)

Just Another Bike Ride

Today was one of the nicest days I've had off recently- sunny and clear without a bone chilling Southerly or Easterly or Sou'Westerly or any other Windy Whateverlys to speak of. I think it's nearly spring, and the presence of flowers and lambs is helping support this theory.

Anyways, nothing new and exciting to report (I just finished night shifts and have the mental capacity of a goldfish), so just a few photos from today.

My mountain bike is getting fixed, otherwise you'd be looking at a picture of it.

Look mom, no hands tan!

It won't be winter forever.

FOR MOM: BABY SHEEP (and what exactly do you think YOU are looking at?! Baa-aaa-ck off!)

Oh, and Scott also managed to get himself a short article in this month's New Zealand Mountain Biker (you know, that one he was on the cover of- proud wifey!). He tested and reviewed a couple of pairs of goggles. And got his stunning photo (by yours truly, in the 5 minutes we had to get it done after forgetting for several weeks) in the mag as well!

And what the heck, since this post has turned into me posting photos from my phone, I'd just like to mention that we went and checked out one of Christchurch's newest restaurants: Orleans. Since I've never actually been to New Orleans, I can't be impressed/offended by how authentic their food is/n't, but hot damn it is tasty!!! Among other delightfully fried foods, we had the chicken waffle. Which is exactly what it sounds like. And is divine.

Maybe if I had a new phone you could differentiate the food in this picture from what your cat barfed up on the bathmat. Oh well.

That's all from Christchurch for now guys!

Its a Winter Wonderland... sorta

Probably because we just spent 5 weeks in the States, Scott and I just can't be bothered with winter. Snowboarding... all that time in the car, and money on lift tickets, something we both usually really enjoy.... eh. The snow has been pretty poor this year (well, until this week) and that combined with our recent sunny holiday is just leaving us really lukewarm on winter sports. 

We did manage to get out a few weekends ago for a hike, which took us up to some snowy hilltops. We went northwest, about an hour from Christchurch to the foothills, or specifically, Mt. Grey.

What would I do without Google Maps?

We hiked up through native Beech forest, then crested the tree line and hiked straight up the side of the foothills in tussock grass, to the viewpoint at the top. Along the way we saw a handful of someone's tracks in the snow... possum?

Bird tracks

Who is this?
The print to the right is the heel-part of my boot, so this is obviously not a human print!

View from the top on a hazy Saturday

 The next weekend Scott and his buddy Zane went out to one of the nearby mountains and did a similar route, but on bikes. Scott said more than one hiker warned them about "ice chutes", and/or gave them completely crazy looks for being out on bikes in such conditions.

He's used to it.

Anyhow, that's all Ive got for ya at the moment. I'm on to my dreaded night shifts tonight, feeling bitter and un-creative. But we're around, working and playing, and off to Auckland next weekend for a quick getaway!

The American Northwest (as told by bicycle pictures)

During our 4.5 weeks in the Land of the Free, we did anything but stay put. The longest we were in one place was 5 days- once at the beginning of the trip with family, and again at the end. We spent the rest of the time traveling around Northern California and Southern Oregon, which in my opinion should succeed and become the 51st State of Awesome.

Here's our route. 

And for those of you who need perspective, the western half of the US:

There's a few destinations missing off the map since Google feels that no person should need to enter more than 10 destinations with directions at a time. Some road trip navigation system ya got there, Google. Anyways, the above still gives a general idea of how much time we spent in the car. 

Thankfully for us, there was a massive snafu with our car situation, and the economy price I paid for a Yaris or Similar Vehicle bought us 4.5 weeks of this bad boy:

Marry me, Chevy?

In retrospect, I have absolutely no idea how we were going to manage 2 bikes, 3 massive suit cases, and 4 carry-ons, and two humans in an economy car. Apparently the Universe also found my plan ludicrous, but took pity on me, or decided to reward us for being generally good people, because the Chevy was ah-mazing. With the exception of 7,000 miles and one inexplicable stain on the back seat, it was brand new. Welcome to America! Yeehaw!

As I mentioned, we spent 5 lovely days with our parents in the Bay Area. There was wine tasting and Mexican food and hugs galore. Pretty much everything I hoped it would be. My dad took the following photo up in Rockville (ok- Fairfield, CA). Scott and I brought bikes- to complicate what was otherwise a lovely day for a picnic. Lucky for us my parents are understanding.

Why is it so hot here?

Ok so we could both brush up on our photography skills.

One of the things I realized when we got home from our holiday is how shockingly bad I was at taking pictures. Basically all I have is bike pictures and scenery (i.e.: virtually none of friends and very few of family). Some blogger.

Anyways, our next destination was Chico. This is our old stomping grounds, the place where we left our house and our friends and our chickens. Going back was kind of a trip. It's all the same. But different. But familiar and fun, and almost routine. And regardless, hot as hell. But that's Chico. The following which is a swimming hole at the start/finish of one of my favorite bike tracks.

It's pretending not to be 105-ish degrees when I took this one. Sneaky creek. 

Navigating the lava rocks, clipped in (!)

Making it look so easy and so steezy, as always.

After 3 hot days in Chico (and many beers and lots of food, and little sleep) we headed north to the much anticipated Ashland, Oregon. Ashland is potentially my favorite place ever. It's nothing special to most people- it's not Hawaii or Bali or Paris or Rome. But it's special to us. We've been going there forever, I essentially fell in love with mountain biking because of this place. We have great friends there, and I only associate it with the best of times. To say I was looking forward to this part of the trip is probably the biggest understatement, ever.

Anyways, more bike pictures:

Me going down a steep, scary chute, which here looks relatively flat and soft. 

Cruising through the rock gardens on the appropriately named "Sketchy".

While we were in Ashland, we raced the Ashland Mountain Enduro. This race encompassed about 50% of the most awesome terrain in Ashland, while simultaneously beating the living crap out of every participant. It was a long, rough, hot, generally awesome day. 

And this happened: 

Third. Or what Ricky Bobby calls, the 2nd loser. Ha. 

We spent the rest of the weekend in Ashland, before driving north to Oakridge, OR. To anybody who doesn't ride mountain bikes and more specifically doesn't like riding them down hill, skip this place. For the non-biker, it's got beautiful lakes and hiking, one motel, one store, and possibly more trailers in town than teeth. 

But for the all mountain riders who want to drop 15,000 feet per day of Grade A shuttle-able trails, go. Go now. Bring full wallets, but do not miss Oakridge. 

We spent 2 days with our very appropriately named friend Wild Bill, who showed us all of his absolute favorite tracks. We were shuttled by Willy (who's name also really fit) into the deepest bits of backwoods Oregon, on roads that inexplicably went for miles and miles and then out of nowhere the start to the most epic trail would just pop out. Brilliant.

The only time we stood still in Oakridge.

Ok, the other time we stood still. This is while Scott was fixing his 2nd... or 3rd? flat tire.

After Oakridge I needed a break badly, but as I mentioned in the previous post, it was not in the cards. We rode the stunning McKenzie River Trail the next day, and in the afternoon lazily made our way to Bend.

En route to Bend we came upon these massive lava fields. We'd been up in the area before for bike races, but just never taken this one specific highway a few miles west- so we were pretty surprised to happen upon this sight.

It went on and on for miles. That was one serious volcano. The view from inside the truck:

Nearby mountains... just waiting for their turn to cause havoc.

 We spent 4 days in Bend, Oregon with friends (thank you Don & Marci!!!). My parents met us here, and we enjoyed time with family and family friends, riding bikes and celebrating the 4th of July. This whole part of the trip was a bit of a blur as I was suffering from all the riding and felt only semiconscious the whole time- and because it was full of good times and special moments. All so great and special that I couldn't remember the camera once.

I ended up pulling out of the Bend race because of the aforementioned exhaustion (in biking we call it "bonking". This usually happens the evening after a big ride, but for me it happened for about 72 hours after 10 big rides. The worst "bonk" ever.) I managed to get an average photo of Scott during his race run...

I know you want to hire me for your event photography.

We had a few days back in Chico (grand total of 0 pictures taken) and then we cruised up to Lake Tahoe with friends. 

To be honest, that weekend is a hazy memory of sun and Lagunitas and good friends and amazing BBQ'd oysters. No photos of us and friends, or the lake, or anything particularly scenic. But there is this one pretty sweet video of Scott on a jump, aptly named the Aircraft Carrier. 

Our last week was full of family and relaxation (including a night in wine country- thanks mom!) and reflection. It was a challenge to bring 32 days to a close when it felt like they passed in an instant. Leaving for the second time was one of the hardest things I've had to do, but I have so much gratitude to our families and friends for understanding that our journey in New Zealand just hasn't come to a finish yet.

Last day in California, Santa Cruz

We are two very, very lucky people.

Biking The Queen Charlotte

So way back on the last weekend in November, we did this epic bike ride. At first, Scott really wanted to write the post about it. Then life, work, visitors, holidays, and bikes happened, and he never got around to it. And I've been putting off writing about it because it was such an incredible and ridiculous excursion that I don't really know how to put it into words.

Anyways. Here goes.

The Queen Charlotte is a 71km long walking track in the Marlborough Sounds, located on the northern tip of the south island of NZ. It is a ridiculously popular walking track because of the beautiful tree fern lined views of aquamarine bays and crystal clear water. Because it is so popular, it is closed to mountain bikers from Dec 1 to Feb 28. So we went on November 30.

The track is neither flat nor straight. It requires a water taxi to take you and your bike out to Ship Cove, the furthest point out, from which you will ride back towards civilization. The bike taxi drops off your overnight gear to the hostel of your choice. There are many along the way as many people hiking it take 4-5 days.

The sounds are like little wiggly, arthritic fingers extending out into the water, so the path is constantly twisting, diving and gaining elevation as you go. We rode it in two days, 50km (!) the first day, and 21 km the second day. For perspective, here's the Strava map from our ride:

Day 1, Ship Cove to Portage Bay

Day 2, Portage Bay to Umungata Bay

And for more perspective:

We started way above the green dot, ending at the checkered dot.

So we left for our adventure after work at 5pm on Friday night. After a 5 hour drive, we (sleepily) ended up in Picton and crashed out for a short night's sleep. Bright and early Saturday we woke up and headed down to the ferry terminal. Unfortunately for us, and the next 12 hours of my life, it was an overcast, windy, soon to be rainy Saturday.

Getting the bikes ready to go on the water taxi.

Ominous view from the boat...

The boat ride was 45 minutes of the choppiest, gnarliest boating I've ever experienced. Deep down all of us knew we were in for a hell of a ride, but no one felt the need to point out the obvious.

Before we arrived at Ship Cove, the water taxi stopped at a closer point to drop off and pick up a few hikers (cheaters and quitters). Then we headed out to the furthest drop spot.

Unloading from the bike taxi, in desolation rainforest.

Scott ready to tackle the climb.

Wheelies are the best way to start the day (also look at what the wind is doing to the water!!!)

The 6 of us, oblivious of what is about to happen to us.

I was warned that the track started with a climb. I was also warned that most people walk it, so I was prepared to do just that. Unfortunately, the rest of the crew are fit and furious dudes, so they all took off at a sprint, leaving me in the dust… er, mud. 

The climb went forever, and ever, and then when it finally flattened out, you went 'round a bend and it began climbing some more. It felt like forever.

Ok, it was actually only a mile. And on Strava reflection, it was actually only about 800 feet, but damn it sure went straight up and was so muddy. Oh, and by the way, it began to rain.

Forcing a smile at the top of the climb.

So we had finally come to a descent (ok we'd only been at this for an hour). I strapped on my kneepads and enjoyed what I didn't realize would be the only dry-ish descent of the day. It was slippery and muddy, but enjoyable. 

Let me also point out that I had my Garmin on my handlebars for a constant reminder of how far we'd gone. I knew we had 50km to do on day one, and I was a bit worried that after 8k I was super tired, and it was raining. 

Then it rained harder.

We had descended all the way back down to sea level (and apparently a beautiful cove, but we couldn't see a thing in the rain). So we climbed again, 700 feet this time, apparently closer to the meanest, angriest storm cloud around. Massive torrential rain drops started assaulting my face and body. By the time we had gone 15km, I was soaked through. My shoes had miniature oceans inside them, with waves crashing from toe to heel with each pedal stroke. My gloves were saturated, my hair dripping, my jacket completely pointless in water repelling. We won't even talk about my chamois.

15km down, 35km to go. Things were looking grim.

Andy pretending this is fun.

The guys waiting for me on the bridge. That is water on the bridge. 

Soaked. Through.

The trail became a river. Sometimes a creek, sometimes a deluge. In some areas, the water and mud combined to create a swamp trail nearly as deep as my pedals. We descended and climbed, descended and climbed. Around 25km in, I had given up on pretending to have fun. This was also around the time Andy's bike broke and he had to keep his brake lever attached with a shaved branch. This was when I found my sandwich had gotten practically soaked through with rainwater (and gluten-free bread disintegrates in water…) 

Around 30km I had a hysterical laughing fit because the whole thing began to seem so ridiculous. Why were we doing this?

One of the "epic" views I had been so excited to see...

Soaked, muddy, freezing, not entertained. 20km to go.

Around this time my brain gave up. I think it accepted the fact that my body was nuts and it had no power to stop this madness. Every climb that came up (and there were many) no longer felt like a personal insult. I glared at it, pedaled or pushed, and just kept going.

Around the 35km point it stopped raining. It sprinkled lightly for awhile, and then stopped. We took this as a good omen and stopped for a moment to eat the last of our soggy food, to wring out our gloves and take in the stormy view. We also met a mama and baby Weka, a native NZ bird that kind of reminded me of a little brown chicken.

Dirt freckles and the first smile in many hours.

Mama Weka.

This was our last real rest, and the last time I saw the guys (except for Scott). They too had had enough, and I think decided to pedal as fast as possible to the hostel we had booked for the night. After 40km, fast just wasn't in my vocabulary. But then a miraculous thing happened. 

The sun came out.

Scott enjoying a berm on the final descent.

The final descent of day one was approximately 1000 feet of vertical drop. Completely my kind of mountain biking. Unfortunately for me though, I was so damn tired, I could barely hold on. It was all I could do to keep my shaking quads and achy hands going. 

After 9 hours straight of riding mountain bikes, we got to Portage Bay and our hostel. Which was on top of another hill. Seriously.

That evening the sun came out and warmed us as we drank beer and ate fish and chips on the deck of a fancy hotel. It was like the whole thing had never happened, and we were just enjoying the end of a summer day.

Acting like it was beautiful the whole time.

Scott and I booked our hostel much later than Andy and the gang. So while their proprietor was washing and drying their cycling clothes, packing them a lunch for the following day, and drying their shoes and helmets for them…. Scott and I found a portable heater and set all of our clothes, shoes, helmets, packs, etc in front of it in an effort to dry it in 10 hours and possibly burn the house down. This was after we used the garden hose to literally spray each other off like wet labradors, which is probably what we smelled like. I have never, ever deserved a shower more than that night. I slept like I was dead.

The next morning was everything that the day before wasn't. Sunny. Hot. Beautiful. Scott and I had a less than amazing breakfast of oatmeal and peanut butter on toast while the guys gorged themselves on pancakes and bacon and who knows what at the fancy hostel. (Hey, we saved like $200 bucks! That totally would have been worth spending, but whatever.)

View from the superior hostel.

We got a leisurely 10:30am start on day 2. Which, of course, started with a long, steep, gnarly climb. Despite the beautiful weather and stunning views, I wanted to cry. My legs felt completely powerless, my hands were aching, and I was still so sleepy. I was getting no credit for my 50km mud slog the day before! I was expected to just bounce back and do it all again!

1,200 feet (in the first 3km!) of climbing seemed to adjust my attitude however (or beat me back in to submission), and I found myself just surrendering to the numb limbs and beauty of the ride.

I can't imagine how phenomenal the first day would have been if we had had weather like we did on Sunday. The riding would have been faster without the mud slog, but I would have been stopping every 5 minutes to ooh and aah over the views and take way too many pictures. I'm glad the good weather was on the second day as well, because it ended the trip on a positive note.

Lee and Dave

Anyways, after the initial climb, we climbed 3 more smaller peaks but with a general downward descent. I should also point out that up until this point I actually found the trail quite boring. Wide, with few technical sections or fun downhills. Being a walking track, most of the cool stuff is taken out as it is not that cool to hike. Anyways, half way through day two, we got one really fun descent!

Dunno where I'm going?

We had lunch and sunned ourselves after about 15km. At this point all of the climbs were behind us, and I was promised a fun, flowy, ferny descent to the end. I found myself with the most energy I'd had on the whole trip at this point, which is either because I was so relieved that I was probably going to live, or because I'm tougher than I thought and was ready for more. But probably the first one.

Riding through the ferns.

Never forget to look up.

It wasn't long, and then we made it. We popped out into the sun, just about 1:30 pm and laid down on the grass. I took off my shoes, socks, gloves, helmet, and pack, and felt warm and dry for the first time in 2 days. And relieved. And thankful that I did it. And happy, because I proved to myself that I was just a little tougher than I thought.

We cruised back to Picton on the water taxi, enjoying the sun and sitting. Sitting down can be a beautiful thing. If you've earned it. Which we clearly had. 

We also earned these.