Disjointed Pictures and Notations

This weekend started with light rain and has intensified each day, as the tail of cyclone Zelia passes over the islands of New Zealand. As I fitted my last blog entry with pictures, I found many pictures that I wanted to share many that did not fit in the narrative.


This blog entry is mostly pictures, with brief narratives, often regarding scenes that  remind me of people or events.  All of my friends travel with me, as I think of each of you often.
***

This group of folks riding horses on the beach reminded me of my horses, of discussions with Heidi Pace about long rides she had taken in her youth in California.

Muriwei Beach

Watching the birds in the gannet colony reminded me of all the early morning birding trips with my father and sisters. I wanted to share the chicks with  my boys...

On an island just off the coast of Muriwei, a gannet colony has overwhelmed its environs.  They now have moved to this rocky point adjacent to Muriwei beach.  I returned in January to see the chicks.

The chicks are quite large and fuzzy.  They looked dead (!), but then would perk up their heads, feed, and lay back down.  They are still blind at this point.

Parent Gannets stand guard over sleeping chicks.

I need a better camera to really get these shots...

 Lake Taupo: for all those triathletes out there, this is the site of  IM New Zealand. The bike course: a lap around the lake.

Lake Taupo: as seen from the scenic overlook from the 2 lane highway

The geology of the place-- After the Tangariro Crossing, I ran to Taranaki Falls.  Along the way, the tale of the volcanic eruption lay before me, unfolded like a lesson in history written in the topography of the land.  I remember times that my father, and later my son, would explain to me the geology of the landscape I was witnessing... Thanks, Dad and Morgan.  I wish you were here!

 I have enjoyed the dogs and cats of Auckland and environs.  For some reason, they remind me of walks with Caleb in Portland.  I am also reminded of dogs and beach excursions of my childhood with my sisters, taking Chula to the beach and watching her bite the waves, and of walks on Whidbey with friends and family.

 

Many people drive right on the beach.  Several folks with disabilities spending a perfect day at the beach, dipping into the water, fishing, or just setting up the "barbie" for lunch.  I thought of Morgan and Megan: new ways for them to recuperate.

I think this is the picture with the dog in it, not the one with the person sitting in their chair in the waves... laughing as the waves crash over her.

Running in the woods, reminded me of all my running partners: Caleb in Putney Woods, all the folks at DSR, my friends who have done Chuckanut, or Bridger Ridge Run, or Western States, and of tales of Morgan running the Cannon Mtn Ski trails ( trail running was part of PE at White Mountain School).

This weekend's trail run in the Waitakere's. I was late to the Huia Road Bush Runner's departure, but followed their track and met with them at the end...

"The bush"

Mount Ruapehu, the ski area of the north island, is featured below. Covered with snow, it looks much different than the desolate lava fields that are evident  in the summer.  Caleb, Morgan and I hiked and camped on the backside of Mount Hood, a much greener, older volcano than this one.  It too, in winter has a popular ski field.

Mt. Ruapehu erupted in 1995.  One of the other volcanoes shielded some of Mt. Tongariro from the lava, leaving the lush landscape there.  This volcano is too recently erupted to have much of any greenery on its slopes.

Several people have asked me about food in New Zealand.  Auckland has its share of lovely restaurants, from many places.  There are excellent Japanese, Indian, Thai, Italian, South American and French restaurants.  The kiwi do love their meat, but most restaurants have vegetarian options.
You won't find much heat in the spice here.  When going to a Thai or Indian restaurant and selecting your "level of heat from 1 - 5" ,I always inquire, " is that "kiwi hot" or "thai hot?"  Most of the time, it is "kiwi hot" and a "5" is closer to a "2-3" in most ethnic eateries from the states.  I often think who I would invite to join me at each restaurant I sample...

 Economy of space: This cabin, possibly much more roomy than Caleb's apartment in Japan is typical of backpacker accommodations. For an inexpensive price, a room with a bunk bed is provided.  Communal kitchens and showers are available.  Many backpackers have other amenities as well, creating a traveler's social network. 

Discovery Lodge is a backpackers owned and operated by an avid mountain runner, Callum, who will go out of his way to ensure your trail run is a success, and steer you to other trail runs in the area.  His record for the Tangariro Crossing?  1 hour 25 minutes.  Mine was more than twice that time!

When I swim Masters, the waterpolo team is practicing in the diving well. I am reminded of high school and other pools I have known.  I have such fond memories of the pool at Ransom-Everglades. 
This one, would be lusted after by SWPAF members: 50 m pool, waterpolo/diving well, therapeutic pool, lessons pool, lazy river, hot tub complex, kids play pool which is attached to a warmer 5 lane lap pool... each has an independent temperature. Public pool. 15minutes from my place.  But the masters coaching is not the same!!!

The West Wave.

Tongariro Crossing

Mt. Tongiriro, near the  Ketatahi Hut

I had it all planned.  A trail run celebration of my birthday.  Not just any trail run, but the Tongariro Crossing, one of the "great walks" of New Zealand, but the only one that takes just a day to do.  My plan was to get to the top, take lovely photos of the local scenery and volcanoes, including Mt. Ruapehu and Lake Taupo in the distance.  I then could wax poetic about being at the "top of the hill" (rather than over it), metaphorically, as I near my 49th birthday.  Plans and the reality of how a day unfolded are  two different things. The mana of the mountain ought not to be dismissed.

Discovery Lodge cabins with Mt. Ngaurahoe in the background

I was out of the cabin at 5am to drive to the end of the track (kiwi for trail), so I could leave my car (R5) and be picked up by a local Tongariro Crossing Transport bus. Driven by a Scot-now-kiwi who lives in Taupo and has done the crossing over 250 times, the bus driver would drop me at the start of the trek.  The R5 would be awaiting my descent from the 6,500ft volcanic complex of a mountain, known as Mount Tongariro.  One of its vents, and the youngest, is Mt. Nguaruhoe, familiar to many as "Mount Doom" from the Lord of the Rings movies. It has erupted over 70 times in the past 150 years, most recently in the mid- 1970's.  I later learned (at the Department of Conservation center) that Tongariro National Park was the first national park in NZ, the second in the world, and a gift by Horonuku, the Maori chief at the time.  The Maori believe that these mountains are sacred.  They belong to all people and the land must not be divided or built upon as the mountains would lose their mana (power, dignity, spirit in Maori belief). 

Poles mark the track, so they might be visible in the fog

  Formerly a guide, the bus driver had given up his daily crossings when age and arthritis set in.  His passion for tramping ("hiking") was evident in his discourse and summary of the hike. At 6:30, hydropack on my back, I started up the well-cared-for track, having been well-informed of what lay ahead over the next 19.4km.  The volcanoes all had their heads in the clouds, the air was cool and threatened rain.  "Frodo lives!," I thought as I made my way through barren lava fields on the shoulder of Mount Doom.

View, capped by clouds, of lava fields and lahar (volcanic mud flow)

As I climbed, it became imminently apparent that today, I would not get beautiful vistas of the mountains.  The hope that the sun would burn off the cloud cover would not come to pass today.  I ran happily until I reached "the staircase"... at which point walking was faster than my running pace.  I took one last picture of the valley before heading into the clouds that blanketed the volcanic peaks.

The "staircase" starts

When I reached the saddle, I was reminded of trips to the top of Mount Washington.  An entirely different weather pattern existed here.  Wind (at 70kph) buffetted the barren landscape, blowing volcanic ash against my legs like a sand storm.  The temperature plummeted.  I had gone from summer to winter in the period of a half hour's climb.

The saddle and the last easily seen pole...

I soon found myself running across the south crater of Tongariro.  Barely able to make out the next trail marker in the fog,  I jogged across the flat, lava  formed crater, happy not to be climbing for a few moments.  I knew that meters below my feet, magma was churning.  The trail was warm, but the wind cold. I considered lying on the crater floor, but decided against it.

steam and wind blowing up the mountain. The lake comes into view over the edge of the scree field

  Climbing out the crater, I was greeted with a  steep downhill scree field, fierce winds coming up the mountain,  and steam from vents in the side of the volcano.  The physics of the wind patterns, temperature gradients would be interesting to learn, but for now, I had to keep my mind on the task at hand.  The wind seemed to be attempting to blow me off the edge of the crest I was on.  I slowly made my way down the scree field.  I was nearly upon the Emerald Lakes, when the clouds parted, allowing me a partial view.

sorry, doesn't seem to rotate correctly... top to the left

I ran on, soon finding myself in what must have been another crater, the Red Crater I had read about.  I knew it only by the similarity of footing and topography to the last crater.  Not much more was visible.  I climbed a little further and found yet another lake.

Red Crater, so named for the rich deposits of iron in the rock

Indeed, I  had come to Blue Lake, photographed it, ran on, not fully cognizant of its significance, the last of the uphill portion of the trail.

Blue Lake

Only when the trail turned gently downhill and the vast greenery of the valley lay before me, did I know that I had not only reached the top of the hill, but was much further along than I had imagined, with all of my climbing behind me.

I was reminded of a patient who told me that one day she woke up to discover she was old.  Her body had been gradually stiffening, paining.  One morning, she awakened and realized that at 70, she chronologically was "over the hill".  Considering this, she slipped on her sweatpants, and went to the kitchen to make breakfast for her daughter.  She had decided that though she may be over the hill, she had best enjoy whatever part of that hill she had left with as much enthusiasm as she could muster for each daybreak.   I recall her whispy voice at 90, "Otherwise, life would just be in black and white." 

I came upon the Ketetahi hut, now 2/3 of the way through my run, to find a two year old sweeping of the deck with his dad in the sunshine.  The track runs directly on the decking of this wilderness hut.  I stopped to chat, briefly, and later to enjoy the wild daisies, small blue mountain orchids, and the vistas of the valley.  The sun came out, finally I was able to strip off my wool arm warmers, long sleeve shirt, and put on my sun glasses.  It was just 9 am.  The birdsong filled the air, and the trail dipped into native forest.  With only three kms left, I was reminded that it was the traverse that mattered in the end, not reaching the summit.  Along the way, my mind had gone from negativity ('you fool, you are not a trail runner'), to fear ('you might get blown/swept off this scree field'), to acceptance that some things just can't be planned, to the realization that my adventure was almost over. I had enjoyed it all.  I wanted to make it last longer, but knew better than to double back, unprepared.   Perhaps this is the lesson that I need to remember and apply to my life as I consider where my path may meander and hunt for the next cairn or pole in the mist.

Enjoy the traverse.

Christmas/New Years' letter

Christmas Day Trail Run

2010

I had intended to spend some time during my Wellington Christmas writing  Christmas letter, blog entry, and describing some of the Wellington scene, with a New Year’s blog entry from Kaikoura, on the South Island.  Life does not always go according to plan.   Thursday the 23^rd of December (which was 22^nd in Salt Lake City), while I chatted with patients, checked labs, and wrote discharge summaries, Morgan was skiing down a chute and triggered a 15 ft. slide.  He skied safely out of the slide, but his hip clipped a rock buried in the snow, fracturing his femur.  It was late on Thursday that I checked my email before starting the last discharge summary.  In those moments, reading the email from Bill, I felt the most vulnerable and far from home since my arrival in Auckland.  Morgan was fortunately not injured more seriously. Help came quickly and the ski patrol loaded him onto a back board and into a litter, escorting him down the mountain, crashing the litter only once in the steep Utah terrain.  Transported by 4x4, to the clinic, and subsequently by ambulance to a level I trauma center, Morgan was put in traction and scheduled for urgent surgery.

Thankful for the advent of technology, I was able to call first Bill, then Morgan, and lastly, his nurse.  I called for updates several times through the early morning hours and spoke with a spunky, if slightly drugged, son following his surgery.  Later, I would watch video of another intermedullary rod insertion on youtube.  My desire to be at his bedside altered my holiday plans. I canceled both my trip to Wellington and Kaikoura, trading those for a visit to Morgan to aid in his initial recovery.    As I look out the window of the small plane at these western US mountains covered in snow, the sun blazing down, I am reminded that  Morgan loves this life of activity in the quiet nooks and crannies of the natural world.  The fractured femur is a cost of that lifestyle. 

2010, a year that began with missing the polar bear swim, will end with missing the swim with the seals and dolphins.  A year that began with a remote possibility of travel, later yielded this work year in Auckland.   As 2010 initially unfolded, I pursued my usual triathlon activities, and continued to work in the small internal medicine clinic on Whidbey Island.  It was in June, at dinner following my first ½ ironman, that I found out I had a good chance of going to New Zealand some time in 2010.  Three weeks later, I would learn that I was due to start work in one month and the flurry of preparations began.

Caleb was headed for Japan for a year, and Morgan was planning on staying in Salt Lake City for one more year of skiing and working in the outdoor recreation industry.  Lee Roof, the physician who owns and runs Whidbey Island Internal Medicine, kindly offered me a year’s leave.  The time was ripe for travel.  The rest, the chronicle of these past few months, can be found on my blog.  http://ayearinauckland.blogspot.com/

This Christmas, it is Caleb whose absence I feel most acutely.  This, his first Christmas away from home, finds him in Ichinomiya, Japan, working.  Christmas in a new culture, first postgraduate job, new friends, adds up to a tall order, but a challenge to which he has risen.  He teaches English to Japanese adults in a town near Nagoya and Kyoto.  There, his work day begins around noon and continues until 9pm, Tuesday through Saturday.  He will get a week’s holiday while the school closes for the New Year, and five additional vacation days during his year in Japan.  Skype made it possible to watch him open his presents, but did nothing for the lack of the hug that usually follows.  I hope to visit him in Spring, during the cherry blossom festival, if I can time it correctly.

Morgan lives in Salt Lake City in a house full of like-minded adventurers.  It is a delightful group of eight talented friends who pursue an active lifestyle and work to sustain that life.  This Christmas was an impromptu,  quiet celebration.  I had mailed presents to Morgan from NZ, and when I found I was coming to the US, made a quick dash to the local Katmandhu store (kiwi outing store) for warm socks, per Morgan’s request.  One of Morgan’s housemates is due for surgery the first week in January.  Thus, there will be two non-weight bearing, rehabilitating fellows at the house.  Companionship will be helpful.

As the year comes to a close, I have been contemplating the events of the year and decade, my strengths and weaknesses.   Communication has been both strength and weakness.  I remark, with heartfelt thanks, on the communication from family and friends, the love and support I glean through facebook, emails, and blog replies.  I have kept more appraised of the lives of those I love, despite the distance.   I have succeeded in some small measure to keep the ties I have made with folks through this communication.  However, my habit has been one of reticence to share more intimate thoughts and feelings.  I have found that in my blog I have shared thoughts I have usually kept to myself.  Even so, the entries only suggest the iceburg that lies beneath.  Blogs are oddly one sided, not a conversational sharing.   It interests me to consider how electronic communication has changed our community. How we can post minutiae, accomplishments, the peaks and valleys of our days.  Seeing a video  of folks while I skype brings me closer than the miles might otherwise allow.  The distance is measured by time differentials rather than miles(or kms).

Christmas is a time to reach out to all those who I value, love, and respect.  A time to let each of you know that I appreciate you.  If I could, I would bring by my usual round of Christmas cookies so that you would know that you are remembered and cherished.  Instead this letter will have to suffice.  I hope you will consider a visit, return an email, and keep in touch in the next decade. 

I hope your Christmas was merry and that the New Year will bring you joy and well-being.