Tag Archives: cold

Nelson 

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My long journey home had begun. I knew that Nelson was my last location for running away in New Zealand. From Queenstown I flew on a little whirry plane to Christchurch, then on to Nelson, to visit my Grandma who lives there. With only 24 hours in Nelson I really wanted to make the most of my time, and my last kiwi run. On hearing that the ‘Centre of New Zealand’ was nearby, my destination was decided. 

After an octogenarian bedtime (as much to do with my hangover as with my company; my Queenstwon leaving party had been the night before), my 7:45 alarm wasn’t such the shock it could have been. The cold, however, was. Here’s me thinking I had escaped the Queenstown chills. Well Nelson at 8am was no better. Wriggling into my leggings and darting out the house, I spent the first 20 minutes or so cursing my forgotten gloves. It took some time, but my quick pace got the blood pumping and I finally began to warm up. 

Following the neat map my Grandma had drawn me, I pounded Nelson’s pavements all the way to the Botanical Reserve, which leads up to the Centre of New Zealand. It is also the site of the first ever rugby game in NZ. The aptly named ‘zig-zag path’ wiggled through the bush up towards NZ’s middle and gave me my hill-fix for the day. You know it’s a good one when you’re congratulated by dog walkers along the way. The ascent was well worth it and I was treated to gorgeous views across pretty Nelson, the bay, and mountains beyond. So it turns out it wasn’t actually accurately the centre of NZ but hey who’s measuring? 

   

  

The views were great and the run was a substantial enough hour and fifteen minutes. A great start to my day in Nelson! I couldn’t help but feel I deserved the lovely lunch I was treated to with my Grandma and great aunty later. 

And then my journey continued. Another three days and I would be home. Wow. 

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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