White Gold and Soap Operas [written from July 2011 perspective]

 I have been so tired lately that I haven't had any time to write.

The quaint mountain town where I chose to spend the past few months has been waiting anxiously for that which some refer to as "white gold." For three weeks after the local ski hills were meant to open for the season, the temperature was still too mild for snowmaking and the pockets of the seasonal workers were wearing quite thin (my own included). The weather reporters led us on, teasing with the dreams of lower temperatures and the accumulation of powder. There were horror stories of how delayed openings of ski fields had affected employees in the past, how Australians were already enjoying their season, and haunting tales of how ours might just not come this year. Local businesses approached suffocation as lacking funds meant restricted spending. The word "free" was reacted to with more zealous attention than starving college students might give it (particularly when accompanied with the word "beer"), and cheerful smiles slowly turned flat. The town looked after us, donating what they could or offering discounts to hold our collective attention and help us last until that first paycheck arrived, whenever that would be. I even did some extensive house cleaning for my flatmate one week in order to reduce the cost of rent. We got creative, but the weeks droned on.

Encountering Sunny Milford with Flying Kiwi

You may remember these pictures from my first trip to Milford Sound (technically a fiord) with my family back in December. We went right after Christmas in the middle of NZ’s summer, which is of course the high season for any tourism operation. Milford is on most any “must see” lists you will come across for NZ. It consists of stunning mountains that plunge dramatically into the water and countless streams flowing off those mountains and dropping into the waters below. The shape of the fiord was carved by a glacier and there is an interesting occurrence of freshwater sitting on top of the saltwater coming in from the Tasman Sea.

A Few Extreme Flying Kiwi Adventures!

After we enjoyed some post-whitewater-rafting hot showers, it was time again to hit the road. We stopped briefly in a town called Geraldine (pronounced by our guide with a proper southern drawl) and then headed toward Lake Tekapo. Some of us hopped off the bus early to enjoy a bike ride into our camp at a holiday park on the shores of the lake. We were told it was a fairly easy ride, but there might be some wind.

It turned out to be one of those rides where I wished I could have changed my mind 1 km down the road. The bus pulled away and we set off, immediately encountering some headwinds. It was a struggle to power through and we had about 25 km to go! Once again, those riders with machine-like quads took off, though they didn’t disappear quite as quickly this time. Naomi and I fell into pace again as we struggled to battle the severe winds.

First glimpse of Lake Tekapo

It was a relief each time we approached a downgrade, as I got my hopes up for some easier pedaling and a moment to rest while gravity took over to carry me down the hill.