6 months away

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6 months ago today I was being driven to Newcastle airport by my parents with a big scabby chin. My worldly possessions for my future away were packed into my little rucksack weighing just 12 kilos. It seems like a lifetime ago. Now my chin is healed and I’ve gained a few kilos (rucksack and elsewhere) and soz for the cheese but I’ve also gained so much more in this last half a year. 

Looking back through my blog posts since I touched down in Lima, pale and timid, I feel so happy and lucky to have encountered these amazing places and learnt so much from them: Cusco was my first Latino love; Bolivia was stunning; Colombia was just one big pleasure-filled love-in; I had amazing experiences in Ecuador; shared Christmas with my mum on the beach; was spoilt by my kiwi family on arrival in New Zealand; ran with my dad; found my perfect way of life in Aus; and got a nipple-on in Queenstown. 

The only thing that can match the places I have seen is the people I have shared them with. At home everyone told me how many new friends I would make away. From day one in South America I was wondering where all my new bezzies were hiding. I missed my friends so much and really wanted to meet someone just like ‘us’. It took me a little while and many conversations to realise that yes, my friends are the best, but I haven’t travelled around the world to meet someone just like ‘us’. Over these months my mind has been opened, my judgements blunted, and I have met people whose paths mine would have never crossed elsewhere. With that beautiful part of travelling, I have friends across the globe to visit when I can. And thankfully my home friends in the UK are still awake in the early hours of Saturday morning for a mashed party Skype exactly when I need them on a Sunday afternoon in NZ. 

Aside from being an excuse for self indulgent nostalgia, today is a very special day back home; my big sister’s 30th birthday. Being away has meant I’ve missed out on lots of occasions back home, not celebrating with my sisters, who I am so close to, is one of the hardest. This photo is from the last time the three of us were together and we got matching tattoos. We even got to tattoo each other! I’m so glad we did it (sorry mum); I just need to look at my arm to feel a bit closer to them. 

  

 With a further 6 months of running away ahead, I know I will still feel homesick (it never stops!), and miss out on yet more special days (two of my best friends are due to give birth in May and I’m gutted I won’t be around to meet the newborns). But I also know I have many more places, people, opportunities and experiences yet to come. I have been reassured that the UK isn’t going anywhere, and I’m sure as hell gona make the most of the next 6 months. Big love to all my family and friends; old and new.

 

  

Fernhill; Queenstown3

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I’m trying to really make the most of my time in pre-employment here in Queenstown (also known as unemployment). And since I have my first day working tomorrow I had to make the most of my last day of leisure today. I began the day down the gym with a personal training session partaking in my new physical pursuit: weight lifting! An upcoming personal goal requires me to hulk-up (or is it bulk-up?), and it seems fate is on my side for this one. Whilst hitching a lift into town last week, my friendly lift-giver explained that he was studying to be a personal trainer… Me: “I actually need a personal trainer, particularly to build strength” Him “I need clients to train for my qualification. And I can’t charge you. And I specialise in strength training.” If that ain’t serendipity then call me Mystic Meg.

So after a morning pumping iron, an afternoon of scouring charity shops for work trousers, followed by my fave hill home, I could easily have curled up on the sofa with a cuppa and gazed out at the weather and the clouds and the mountains and the lake and the sky. Then I asked myself, what would Beyoncé do? And I laced up my trainers, ran into that weather and towards those mountains, the lake below me and those clouds gently dripping from that sky above me. 

I wasn’t feeling a hill session after my morning exertion, so went exploring for a path leading straight along the valley side. I found just what I’d had in mind and took this path towards Fernhill, a suburb of Queenstown. The path lead me through some wooded areas, up and down, crossing over the many mountain bike tracks that are woven through the pines up and around Queenstown. Tiring, I made it to Fernhill, a residential area built up of lots of houses and not much else. However, as with everywhere round here the views are the main attraction and I made for the highest hill. 

 

My tired and aching body was treated to some of the best views of Queenstown I have seen so far. It’s a shame the weather wasn’t brighter, the hills also look better with a backdrop of blue. After a few moments rest, breathing in the scene, I made my way back the way I came. With more declines it was easier than on the way, and I passed this strange vehicle/camper van. It must belong to a super-cool socialite.

  

Sunshine Bay; Queenstown2

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I keep remembering that I live here and feeling a little bit chuffed and excited. After years of living in post-industry industrial British cities (Manchester I still love you), being surrounded by natural beauty is a bit of a novelty. And just like in Piha, getting out and about in this beauty is all the motivation I need to stay active. Even better than Piha, there are so many more tracks and hills to be explored here in the vast mountains. 

Despite starting the day with an early spin class, I was still feeling full of beans and ready to run yesterday afternoon. Who said unemployed people are lazy?! I have recently moved to a cabin on a hill, overlooking the town and lake. Sounds lovely and romantic right? The views are incredible but do they make up for the fact that: I share my bedroom; there is just a curtain between my room and the living room; I have to go outside to get to the bathroom; it’s freakin’ freezin’? Yeah, maybe for now. I’m pretty chilled (in every sense) but may have to be on the move again before winter really sets in. This is the view from my living room anyway.

  

From my hillside vantage point I chose down. This hill is steep. Now you may be under the impression that running down a hill is easy. It can be, especially when intoxicated. But keeping a steady footing to avoid any twists or sprains, or just launching yourself downwards like you’re chasing a huge roll of cheese, takes concentration and control. It’s all in the bum I swear. This time next week my booty will be putting Beyoncé to shame. In my dreams. 

My route took me lakeside to the pretty lake beach of Sunshine Bay. To be honest I’m not a fan of these unimaginative names in English, give me unpronounceable Maori any day. But it did what it said on the tin. The path was pleasantly challenging in its ups and downs and the views did not disappoint. My journey back the same way was joined by a friendly cyclist from Christchurch. The conversation helped those last few k’s disappear and running alongside the bike kept my pace up. As I bid farewell to my be-wheeled friend I took a deep breath at the bottom of the big hill, my little cabin perched at the top. Step by step, I made it home; feeling a little bit superhuman on arrival. Basically Beyoncé. 

   

 

Frankton

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After just a few days in central Queenstown, me and my surfboard were on the move again, in search of cheaper pillows on which to rest my head. My search took me to Frankton, a 10 minute hitch from town and to a unique living situation. I was lucky enough to get a couch surfing spot with a friendly Manc who just happened to be under house arrest. Far from dodgy, it was a a enjoyable few days and a lovely lakeside spot to call my home from home. Surrounded by Brits for one of the first times on my travels (I was joined by a Yorkshire couch surfer), we had more than a few mugs of wine between us that night. I woke to beautiful clear blue skies and just a bit of a headache. Lacing up my trainers I trotted off to enjoy a different perspective of Lake Wakatipu to the ones I had enjoyed in Queenstown.

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My run took me along a treat of a trail which curved up alongside the Shotover river. The glacial water of the river glints a magical turquoisey-blue and is fresh and safe to drink. I enjoyed gorgeous views along the river, over wildflower meadows and up towards The Remarkables; a mountain range so called since it is the only one in the world which lies precisely South to North.

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Despite the majestic mountainous surroundings, motivation was failing me after 15 minutes or so. I turned back and enjoyed the same views just as much the second time round. After some half-arsed push ups by the lake I collapsed and enjoyed a spiritual laze in the grass. Gazing up to the beautiful blue sky through a golden tree it dawned on me that autumn is well under way here in New Zealand. My winter avoidance, after 14 months will be coming to an end soon. I’ll have to start saving for some leggings!

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Queenstown

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Yesterday me, my backpack and my surfboard landed in the mountains of the South Island, my new home; Queenstown. Riding into town I couldn’t help but feel I was far away from New Zealand, in my old home, the UK. The purple-ish mountains, tall pines and old stone buildings would not look out of place in the Scottish highlands or the Lake District. But no, I’m a little further afield than that; pretty much on the opposite side of the Earth. Arriving here with the last of my travel funds, on the hunt for a job and a home, I can’t help but feel a bit nervous.

I’m staying in a hostel so on waking to my alarm early this morning, I was back on the old awkward tip-toe-phone-torch situation to locate my running necessities without disturbing my bunk-mates. I finally smoked out my sports bra and donned my shorts and vest. Stepping out the door there was another similarity to the motherland, and stark difference to my recent whereabouts. The 37 degrees I endured on the Gold Coast seemed a world away here in the chilly mountains of NZ. With a deep breath, and my nipples pointing the way, I cantered towards town hoping to get the blood pumping and warm myself up.

I was out and about early, but so, it seemed was much of the town. A boat sped up across the lake, lifting a parasailor into the sky, and little people floated down on parachutes from the surrounding summits. The golden sun was creeping up over the majestic mountains and I was slowly heating up. Before long I’d passed through the tiny town and was in Queenstown Gardens; a pretty lakeside park with voluptuous views around the valley. I passed these pretty stone stacks which I’m sure someone had a thoroughly spiritual session erecting.

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I’m not sure if it was the procrastination before my job search duties for the day ensued, which motivated me to make three laps of the park. But it was apathy for another repetition which lead me back to the hostel. Passing by the lake beach a stunted rainbow was reaching from the dark waters. I was happy to see I’d been out for an hour on my return, and I’d been going at a fair pace too. Maybe these cooler climes are better suited to my Geordie bod after all.

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Auckland3

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I’ve got a few days of downtime in Auckland before the big move to my new home (home still to be found) in Queenstown. The perfect opportunity to get some leg pumping action, aka running done. I was over in Whangapoua at the weekend and completed an energised morning run of hill reps. Now even I struggle to make light of running up and down the same hill repeatedly so there’s no post on that. However I completed a nice run this morning on the route from Browns Bay, which I ran with my Dad a few times earlier in the year.

As ever, Browns Bay beach was teeming with dog walkers. There were some lovely dogs about but both I and them were moving too quickly for pictures so I got another classic snap looking towards Rangitoto Island.

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This route also passes my old South American fave the local urban gym. Ok so evidently every country outside the UK has these, but I saw it in South America first! And for the first time on my travels the urge struck for me to get reppin’ on the bars. Glancing around for onlookers, like a naughty child just about to poke his finger in a dangerous hole, or myself stealing a grape in the supermarket, I confirmed that the coast was clear and made for the pull-up bar. Those who know me will know that my New Years resolution every year (well maybe the past 2 years), was to be able to do a full pull up. Even when I was training at my old beloved boxing gym 2-3 times a week in Manchester I never made it. C’mon 2015, this is our year! As in me and my biceps’. Surprisingly I haven’t magically summoned the power to perform a pull up in my travel time but I completed a few jump pull-ups (basically just jumping instead of using your arms), and set off on my way again.

Further along the route I heard a strange collection of noises I peered to the sky to identify the perpetrator. Of course it was the New Zealand native bird, the tui. Or the animal kingdom’s sonic response to the dial-up internt tone. Maybe the tui came first, who knows; one of life’s great mysteries. The tui also wears a pimpin’ white cravat of curly white plumage. All in all, an eccentric fella.

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On my way again, I bounded up those long Auckland hills like a mountain goat; the hill reps in Whangapoua clearly served me well. Back at the family abode I was happy to see my time was similar to the times I’d completed with my Dad in February. So Dad, think twice before you email me again asking if my trainers are gathering dust!

Fingal Head

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I’m back in New Zealand now, after a fab hol from my travels in Australia. I’ve returned a little bit browner (mostly my feet), a little bit blonder, a fair bit poorer, however richer in friends and surf boards. Yes I have my own board! All thanks to a generous, hunky Aussie guy (God bless Tinder). Now nothing can stop me owning the waves! Apart from maybe the impending New Zealand winter and the fact that I’m moving to Queenstown, which is 3.5 hours from the coast. Minor issues.

So Australia was my last foray in freedom before climbing back on the old 9-5 (or whatever hours anyone will give me), and settling down for a bit in NZ. I had it all planned out. Before Fingal came along and threw a spanner in my thoughts. Welcomed to stay in an amazing house, with lovely people in an incredible location, I got more than a little bit hooked on this Lake House lifestyle. Smoothies, surfing, sunshine, running, yoga and a canoe on the lake; I knew it would be a bit of a wrench to leave.

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It was a gorgeous location for running, and I worked out a nice 45 minute route before long: Starting by the lake in front of the house, running up along the white sand beach, up over the point past the lighthouse and back down alongside the river. The weather was unreal (ok maybe a bit too hot at some times of day), and made for picture-postcard photos on my second last run here. My last run along the beach was overcast and cloudy; lovely running conditions but not so stunning for photos, so I left the camera behind. Typically this was the day I saw a pod of dolphins dancing in the surf. It was such a magical encounter and I was glad to just breath in the awesome scene and watch them play. You’ll just have to take my word for it.

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After a few days in my latest paradise, it was time to get ready to leave. I had had many urges to stay and live the dream, somehow. But my plans in New Zealand still stood, including some pursuit-of-dreams plans which could mean big changes to my little life. And I’m sure there are more paradises waiting to be discovered on my upcoming journeys…I’ll let you know.

Byron Bay

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Going for a run was not the first thing that sprang to mind when I woke this morning. “I need water” was definitely riding high on my train of thoughts though. Yesterday we had enjoyed Byron to its full potential: surfing; beach bumming; having a party in a camper van and drinking A LOT. I don’t remember being chucked out of the club we went to for the effects of this quantity but I’m told it happened. And the chilli sauce all over my leg supported the late night falafel tale I had also been told.

So: to the beach! After opting for a juice called ‘detox’ at one of Byron’s many fresh and fruity alternative eateries, with so much ginger it tasted a bit too much like curry to perk me up, I collapsed on the beach to understanding moans and groans of my party comrades. I’d come this far, to this famous little hippy haven, it would have been a real shame to miss out the running and blogging. Numbing myself with a prescription painkiller, I took some time curled in the foetal position to collect and prepare myself; mentally, physically and emotionally.

Crunch time arrived, and while my friends went for lunch, I ran away down the beach, barefoot and determined. I had my eye on the far end of the long curving beach and set off towards the point. It was Monday morning, not a time to dread for Byron beach bums however. The place was alive with surfers, swimmers, families, people doing yoga… Man I cannot fault these Aussies’ lifestyle choices. If I could find a means to live the beach lifestyle long term I would. In fact maybe I will. I have been more than a little bit tempted to stay here in Australia to live, but I’m sticking to my plans for now, reminding myself of the new paradises I still have to discover. Australia, unlike me, is not going anywhere.

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After a surprisingly pain free (thank you, codeine) ten minutes or so running I made it to the rocky point at the end of the bay. I ran up the steps to the lookout point on the rocks, the pains of the morning forgotten; blown away by the cool winds from the ocean. I stood and watched the bobbing surfers below, feeling an urge to join them in the azure ocean. Satiated, I ran back along the beach and treated myself to a dip in the shallows. Hangovers in paradise aren’t so bad, I guess.

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Sunshine Coast

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In true Aussie fashion, I woke early and eager this morning. After a busy day yesterday, surfing and swimming at a few spots on the Sunny Coast, we’d slept well and were gunning for another piece of The Sunshine. By the time we left the house I’d already polished my previous post, written some postcards home and got a couple of chapters reading in.

One thing I love (and miss) about little old overpopulated Great Britain, is that if you live near a city and don’t drive it’s no problem. Public transport is great and places are generally pretty close together making my fave mode of transport; cycling, pretty easy. Not so much in Australia and New Zealand. Since the start of my travels I have met Aussies who say they are from “near Melbourne; just about 7 hours drive…”. So my stubborn choice to fend off buying a car for as long as possible (I haven’t driven since I passed my test 3 years ago…) may soon come to an end. Especially if I want to keep surfing back in NZ! I’ve been so lucky in Aus and NZ so far, to have friends and family host and guide me, including driving me about. Today was the same and we had a Sunshine Coaster to show us some local hotspots.

First stop was a bush walk to waterfalls and rock pools. On the way we spotted these happy looking kookaburras, who when they call, sound like crazed monkies laughing. The walk took us past many impressive trees, including these twisty, hollow ones which would look right at home on a creepy woodland horror flick. I’m not sure of their name but they start life as a vine, which latches onto a host tree and surrounds, sucks and suffocates it until it dies and rots, leaving the tree-vine standing in its place. We made it to the pools and took a refreshing dip, in what was actually the warmest river I’ve swam in on my travels.

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Back on the road, we stopped by a bakery and I found a post box to start the postcards on their long journey to the motherland, Newcastle (UK!). Now one thing I really hold dear from my Geordie heritage is pastry. You can’t beat a good pasty, and thinking of Greggs the bakers staying open until the early hours for a post-club cheese and onion really makes my heart twinge with homesickness. Luckily Australians share this pastry passion and I have been impressed with the range of baked goods on offer here. I opted for a delicious spinach and feta pasty (must admit, you wouldn’t find that in Greggs), to fend off my longings for the toon and fuel the next adventure of the day; climbing Mount Coolum!

The midday sun was beating down and a sign at the foot of old Coolie said it was a 2 hour round trek. Pah! We missioned on up and mounted the mount in just 20 minutes! With 360 degree crystal clear views of the Sunshine Coast it was the perfect photo opportunity.

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So a post which is a little off-piste and on a tangent but I’m really having a great and active time over in Aus! Don’t want you to miss out on the pastry lo-down or adventures I’m enjoying. I hope it makes a good read.

Gold Coast 2

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After my midday mistake last run in Aus, this time I went for a more carefully considered sun-down run. Whist Ren was omming it out at yoga, I sweated it out (it was still 28 degrees), on a moonlight beach run.

Despite the sun having gone to bed, the beach was still busy as I set off up the sand towards Surfers Paradise. I had gazed at the futuristic, glassy high rise skyline from other points along The Gold Coast, so was looking forward to seeing it close up for the first time. I am a big fan of wild beaches, where jungle meets sand, and I’ve enjoyed some primal barefoot beach runs in my travels so far. However Surfers Paradise is quite the opposite, and unlike any beach I’ve ever visited. High rise buildings burst from the beach, and as the sunlight died, the cityscape began to light up and twinkle, reflecting in the sea below. I’m not sure it would count as my surfers’ paradise but it’s was an impressive sight all the same.

Since I’m on the East Coast, there’s no daily treat of a sunset out to sea. I’m pretty go-getting and active but can’t see myself making it down there for sunrise either…the other day we were pumped and ready for an early surf. We hit the waves at 7am and it was so busy we felt like we were late. These surfers really have got their priorities sorted: early to beer; early to bed (maybe); early to surf! So with no sunset to devour, the glinting skyline was the main feats for the eyes.

After about half an hour of running and snapping a few pics, I was alongside the biggest and spangliest of the beachfront buildings. I turned back around, satisfied that an hour in total running would suffice. Back at the entrance to the beach where I’d started, I had some post-run time to spare and decided to go for a pleasure paddle whilst cooling down.

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From the shallows, the view back up to the city looked more impressive than ever, with the light pollution giving the clouds a trippy glow. It was a bit of a zen moment but I was deterred after about 10 minutes of putting up with mystery beings brushing against my feet. I couldn’t quite make it to the meditative state I was pursuing, with images of the little blue jellyfish I had spotted washed up on the shore earlier; the very same kind that had stuck to my leg in the surf a few days earlier giving me a strange rash. I left the sea; yet again surviving the Aussie poison beasties to fight (and run) another day.

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