active transport

Interior of the Coromandel

Friday evening and the R5 (car) was packed with wetsuit, running gear, books, and one change of clothes.  My destination? The Coromandel Peninsula, a mere 2 hours from Auckland, but a world away.  Visible from Auckland, the Coromandel is surprisingly unpopulated.  On the near side, it forms the southern edge of the Hauraki Gulf, where Auckland harbour sits.  The other side is the northern edge of the Bay of Plenty and the Pacific Ocean.  The middle of the Coromandel is predominately uninhabited forest and hills with hiking trails.  It is known for its spectacular beaches, islands, geothermal areas, including Hot Water Beach, where you can dig your own private hot tub in the sands.   I donned casual, driving attire and gleefully tossed the scrubs in the laundry hamper in the "theatre" (OR) changing room and headed for the car.

Pauanui and the Tairoa River

I must confess that the reason I travel on the weekends is as much of an escape as it is adventure.  I escape my lonely apartment and give myself a contrived existence.   I suppose travel is always contrived at some level.  As a wise, dear friend said, traveling is as much a journey of introspection as it is the extroverted experience.  This weekend was slightly different, however.  My escape to the Coromandel included a visit to a new friend.

A few weeks previously, my son's "mate", Leslie Kinson, had sent an open invitation from Facebook to visit her new home in Pauanui.  I think I have been the only one to take her up on it, thus far.  Leslie is a beautiful young woman and free spirit who made her way to NZ last year on her own.  I first met Leslie when she came to Washington to hike a section of the PCT with Morgan and five others.  An artist, designer, with a joie de vivre, she had invited me (twenty five years her senior) to visit her at her home in Pauanui.  She lives with Ian, her fiance, in a three bedroom house a short walk from the beach. 

Pauanui: Pacific and the Tairoa River meet

Pauanui means "big paua", or abalone, in maori. It lies on the east coast of Coromandel where the mouth of the Tairoa River meets the Pacific and forms a small sandy point. The town of Tairoa is easily visible across the bay.  Around the sandy point, the Pacific rolls in, creating a surfer's paradise.  In winter months, Pauanui has a population of about 800, which swells to 5000 in the summer, augmented by Aucklanders on vacation.  Mid-November is still spring in NZ, while the population of Pauanui was certainly increasing, most of the houses still remained empty.  I was blessed with a weekend of quiet, warmth and sun.

Beach and the hill for which the town in named in the distance that guards Pauanui

After breakfast with Leslie and Ian on Saturday morning, I set out at 10 am with my wetsuit, goggles and cap in my lightweight backpack in search of the perfect swimming location. I considered swimming across the small  bay at the mouth of the river to the town of Tairoa.  However, it became clear that it was much to shallow when I came across four folks wading across the bay with their cooler.  The search for the perfect swimming beach continued.

Around the point, the waves become bigger as the Pacific Ocean meets the sands of the Pauanui beach.  Surfers dotted the wave crests and I enjoyed watching them work up and down the waves. If I lived here, I would learn to surf, despite the recognition that my body would protest more from the spills as I age.  Age.  It is interesting to be the guest of my children's contemporaries.  Lovely to remember that time in my life and to witness others embark on adulthood, the world at their feet.  What will their future hold? What has the world left our children, now grown to adulthood?  What reins will they hold? Loose, tight?  How will they steer our planet?  I enjoyed being the guest, enjoyed not being in charge. 

I walked to the end of the surfer's beach and found a trail that wound around the edge of the water to Tabletop, a rock formation where the ocean surged over old lava worn into odd formations of suprisingly square cathedrals and small pools of ocean life.  The trail eventually climbed, and I followed, not knowing where it would lead.  I reached the summit of Pouanui,, the hill that guards the town.   A lovely vista of the Coromandel lay before me.

By the time I reached the bottom, it was hot and I had been walking for nearly 4 hours.  The waves beckoned and I donned my wetsuit and swam through the waves, behind the surfers, enjoying the cool salty waters of the Pacific.  I swam down the beach and back.  Not long, and not fast.  I rode the waves back into shore and walked home, tired and hungry.   Leslie cooked a lovely fish dinner, roast vegetables, asparagus, and silverbeet.  Sleep came easily that night!

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Looking back at Tairoa

Sunday morning I woke early, readied myself for a brief drive to Cathedral Cove beach, on Ian's recommendation. This auspicious weekend holds the day Aung San Suu Kyi was released (again) from confinement.  I considered what it would be like to wake, as she must have, knowing for the first time in many years, freedom awaited.  My occasional self-pitying loneliness dwarfs to meaninglessness in the face of 15 years of confinement. Suu kyi's incredible indomitable spirit amazes me.  To stay involved, well-read, and vibrant after such isolation is a testament to her strength and will. I vowed to continue to learn,  to grow and to read, in an attempt to be aware and involved in the world. 

still Pauanui, afraid my phone was out of batteries for the Cathedral Cove run...

I drove the coastal road to Cathedral Cove, right past busy Hot Water Beach, with most of the traffic on the road turning in that direction. Donning my vibram five fingers for the second time in as many days, I took to the trail that led to a variety of beaches and coves along the way. Vibrams, or VFF, are an odd looking shoe reminiscent of toe socks, but sport a rubber sole that easily negotiates sand, mud, and water. I enjoy running in them on trail runs, but don't usually take to the streets in them.

  I arrived at Cathedral Cove to find a pristine beach with an archway to another beach. Rock formations  towered like monuments to  Maori gods.  My wesuit insulating me from the cool waters, I leisurely swam around these monuments to the beaches on either side.  Kayaking groups came through from Hahai to tour Cathedral cove. What a lovely place to swim, with a wide gentle trail that negotiates the hills leading to the beach to run on.

 What a divine treat, to experience the Coromandel as a multi-sport weekend, without the pressure of competition and on the spur of the moment, through such spectacular land.  I hope to find more adventures with a similar theme: to tour new places by active transport (no, I am not talking cellular biology!), but by paddle, pedal, surf board, or by foot.  I welcome suggestions!

West Coaster musings

View from the West Coaster trail run

It must have been the first week that I arrived that I met Simon, briefly, while running.  I was on East Tamaki Drive, running along the trail on the waterfront sporting my Mt. Baker Hill Climb shirt.  A tall fellow (6'4"?), who would have passed me easily, ran with me a short distance and asked about the shirt.  Our conversation quickly turned to trail runs and he mentioned that I should consider the West Coaster trail marathon in November.  I hadn't seen him since.

Trying to snap photos while running can be quite tricky

Knowing that I did not have the training miles necessary for a full marathon, I signed up for the 28k Speights West Coaster off-road adventure run.  The run starts at Bethell's Beach, a well-known surfer's paradise only 45 minutes from Auckland, on the west coast of the north island.  Apparently, 300 people were entered in a variety of races: 42k, 28k, 18k, and 10k.   There were a small number at the start of the 28k, including seven or so women.  Each race started approximately 2 hours after the next longest race.  A 9am start made for a somewhat leisurely race day start.

Before the race...

Stethanie and I did not really grasp what we were about to embark upon.  I thought I had misread last year's winning time for the women's 28k of 4:19.  Thinking that time must be for the 42k, I hoped to come in at 3:00, half of my slowest marathon time (when I walked and skipped much of the marathon).  I should have realized it was a bit different when I got the email about the required items to race: a space blanket, minimum of 1.5 litres of fluid, extra food, rain gear, cap, gloves, and a fully outfitted first aid pack.  This in addition to the three aid stations on the course.

Officials running down the starting chute...

The race started across the beach, running through a river, then up along the bluffs overlooking the ocean.  The views were spectacular.  I ran the first 9k, thinking it reminded me of trail runs at home, but the trail was at times smaller, muddier, and the footing less predictable.  I did not know it at the time, but I ran a good part of that with Simon's wife, Penny, who had entered the 42k distance.


After a brief connector on a dirt road, we entered another track, the bush track.  Some of these trails were meticulously maintained, wide footpaths with well-cared for steps, until we got to the waterfalls and the river. There the river had to be crossed dozens of times, the trail sometimes marked by a mere triangle on the rocks along the edge or in the middle of the river.  Bouldering some, running some, slipping in mud, falling on my rear in the middle of the river, I happily traversed the trail. (Fortunately, the cell phone in my back pocket survived the river and only a few pictures, all of me, were lost due to smudge on the lens).  All the while, I  marveled at the lush kauri forest.  I got passed my many who seemed like mountain goats, sure-footed and unmuddied runners.

Stethanie emerging from the bush

Eventually, we looped back to join the 18k runners who looked fresh by comparison.  I ran for much of the last 15k alone.

Running has always provided me with a time for contemplation.  This run's theme seemed centered on ethics of the dying patient.  In the United States, the health care system is centered on the patient's choices.  This is mostly true for New Zealand as well, but it is a socialized system and the ethics of the community  as a whole effects the care of the dying.  Some of the most costly care occurs at the end of life.  Not palliative, comfort care, but heroic efforts to save folks whose time is near.

Views from the trail

Many folks have the notion that CPR  will bring folks back to life.  Indeed, it has to many a healthy person.  However, for those people who are old, frail, or in the process of dying, the success rate falls dramatically.  For those of us in medicine who have witnessed CPR on dying folks, it truly can be an inhumane and undignified way to die.  Although we may communicate this belief to our dying patients, in the US, if the patient wants CPR, they have the last word.  CPR will be done.  In New Zealand, it is different.  Most everyone still has a right to declare whether or not they want CPR.  In the case of the dying patient, if the doctor notes that CPR is futile, then no attempt will be made to resuscitate the patient, regardless of the patient's wishes.

Views from the trail

I had a long and fruitful discussion with one of the palliative care physicians on Friday.  He said that the outcomes for palliative care were much better in NZ than in the US because of this difference.  While here in NZ, I have also witnessed CPR on the very frail, elderly patient who is otherwise healthy.  They do not practice ageism or deny it for very ill patients.  The "futile CPR" is reserved for those who near death. As with all ethics and much of medicine, there will be grey areas.  I wonder about the grey in both systems.  Patient choices, adequate patient information, physician intervention, bias on both sides, social pressures, family ties, all contribute to decisions around care of our patients.

Yes, the trail goes through THAT.

Working in medicine can be hard on the spirit.  Special cases come to mind.  Patients with a fighting spirit who eventually die.   Exercise is my therapy, the bluffs and crashing waves, the mud, the wet shoes, the hills all helped.  I will continue to try to care for my body, to use it, to experience all the beauty in nature.  As I write this I am struck by the realization that the most beautiful thing I saw this week was not the finish line, the waterfalls, beaches, bluffs, hills, rivers, but the strength and love of a family supporting their dying father.

And the trail traverses this. Quite varied terrain!

I finished the run with plenty left from a cardiovascular standpoint, but not much left in my legs or feet.  I am not sure of my official time, but my watch (after getting my timing chip off) was at 5:15.  The race photographer wanted a picture of me as the epitome of the run: covered in mud, thoroughly wet, smiling.  The run was sponsored by Speights, a kiwi beer.  A beer, sausage sandwich and fried bananas topped off the day. I met Simon for the second time as I was commiserating with his wife over her sprained ankle.  He recognized me by my accent, stature, and dirty girl gaiters. (Dirty girl is a brand name of patterned running gaiters). I soaked my legs in the river I had crossed earlier this morning, thankful for the opportunity to witness this corner of the world.  Stethanie finished shortly after my soak, but looked like she did when she started, unmuddied.  For those techies, you can look at the trail route via my garmin site: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/55728531

See what I mean, Stethanie's after photo... she looks as fresh as she did at the start.

Tomorrow another week begins.  Today, I clean house, write my blog, connect with my family and friends.  Be well, all of you. Take care of yourselves and know you are well loved.

Not much thought...

This weekend (and this blog entry) was put together with not much thought.  More of a reaction to being in Auckland with a means to escape!  Yes, I purchased a car.  1989 Renault 5 from a fellow who had 3 days left to sell it before heading to Norfolk, VA and a new job at NASA.  I love my little car.  Yes, I will still take the train, reserving the use of the car for weekend outings and grocery runs.

The R5 is unnaturally elongated in this photo.  I can barely fit in diagonally to sleep in it.  Making it smaller than the beetle by far.

The impetus for this trip was a swim.  It is early spring here, but the warm, sunny days of the week past were in my memory as was the luscious swim from the park at the end of Anan Street.  I got out my guidebook and picked to nearby beaches: Piha and Goat Island.  The more I read, the more I was convinced to go to Goat Island, part of a Marine Reserve and a snorkeling hot spot.  My office mate related stories of her children feeding snapper hot dogs, basking on the beach, and swimming to Goat Island.  My mind was made up.

Goat Island

Piha is a surfer's beach and will undoubtedly feature in weekend plans yet to come.

Saturday was sunny when I left the house to meet Michael Rodgers, a friend and surgeon who spent a year in Portland.  While we reminisced and discussed the role of PAs in NZ over coffee, the skies clouded over and let loose with a deluge.  (Great, I'd hung all my laundry out before leaving)!  By the time the R5 was packed for my adventure, the rain had stopped, but the clouds persisted.

Half an hour from Auckland and the R5  wound around vineyards, hills, and small towns to the town of Leigh.  I set my tent up at a delightful campground that boasted hot showers, communal kitchens, and plenty of paperback novels.  I donned my jogging attire and ran down to the beach near Goat Island and onto the Goat Island track, a trail cloven by sheep along the headlands overlooking the Marine Reserve.  Many islands dotted the horizon and the wind blew steadily.  I found some dirt roads and enjoyed a leisurely rural run. This run will have to suffice for my long weekend  training run. I am woefully unprepared for next weekend's West Coaster 28k trail run...

Home sweet home, at least for the weekend

As I had packed in a hurry, and had not planned well, I left at home a myriad of camping and running essentials, including an extra pair of running socks and my headlamp.

This morning, after a night of fitful sleep due to wind gusts, I returned to the  beach, this time with my wetsuit on.  The water was surprisingly cold (62 degrees, I later learned) compared to my recent Herne Bay swim.  Despite this, the sea life beckoned.  Fish were teaming among the vegetation.  Snapper are huge.  They rather scared me when I first saw one.  The goat fish, with its blue and purple colors was my favorite.  Blue moamoa and another fish that reminded me of an  thinner-bodied, wider-striped angel fish were others that I recognized from the pictures I had studied at the campsite.  There were many more.  Swimming with a constant display below was a delight.  If the water had not been so cold, I might have tarried longer.  I noted that the folks who were diving had much thicker wetsuits on, as well as hoods, gloves, and booties.  I succumbed to reason after 1/2 hour of swimming.

Beach access to the reefs around Goat Island

I find watching the undersea world calming.  Life exists in the steady rhythm of the ebb and flow of the waves.  I find I start breathing more slowly and try to match the beat of the life below the water's surface.  I imagine the carpet of life that lies underneath the waves, another world of which I can only dream.  I will plan future visits when the water is warmer and I am better prepared.


The hot showers at the campsite were put to good use.  I stopped for a cup of tea and a scone at the first cafe on the way back to Auckland, and "spicy" Mexican for lunch in Orewa to warm me up.  (The kiwi version of "spicy-hot" is no more than "medium" by most standards).

Back to city life by 1pm, I am enjoying a cat-like moment in the sun before I set to getting ready for the busy week ahead.