Tag Archives: runner

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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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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Gold Coast

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My birthday began in Piha, New Zealand and ended in The Gold Coast, Australia. it lasted 27 hours and I blagged my way out of paying $130 for my luggage being overweight. A pretty special day all in all.

So I’m never really prepared for the weather in my subsequent destination. I have been surprised by snow in Peru, daily storms in Colombia and getting chilly in Ecuador. Clearly I still haven’t learned (to maybe just google the weather report). Who knew Austrailia would be so freakin hot?! On my first full day here the mercury was tipping 37! So I wisely decided to go for a jog at midday with my friend and Brasiliaussie host, Renata.

At the start of the run/walk I spotted my first proper Aussie arachnid! Framed against a blue blue sky towards Sufers Paradise. Yes there’s a town called Surfers Paradise here. And that’s the kind of place The Gold Coast is. Everyone looks so healthy and bronzed with sun kissed hair. On the short journey we passed walkers, runners, surfers, swimmers, cyclists, body boarders, kite surfers, paddle boarders, skaters and probably some more obscure sports I can’t remember. On a weekday lunchtime. It really does inspire you to be part of the moving masses! Seeing exercise ingrained into a society is a breath of fresh air. Ok so in the UK we don’t have so many white sand surf beaches or year-round sun bleached promenades. And I know Coronation Street is great, but more needs to be done to inspire people off their sofas and into some sweaty activity!

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After a very short time running I was ‘the colour of a newborn piggy’; Ren’s words. It was ridiculously hot and my shoulders were screaming with sunburn. We passed this cool truck before slowing to a walk and lapping up water from the water fountains conveniently stationed along the promenade. I will be timing my next run here more carefully. Like maybe the middle of the night or something.

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Piha3

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Last night I witnessed the most beautiful sunset I have ever seen. I stood in the shallows, looking out to the golden, blue and pinky sky; to the surfers just bobbing on their boards, facing the same way as I, disappearing behind the huge 2-3m waves which swelled between them and me; these waves which grew and crashed and rushed towards me, diminishing with every metre they travelled until they lapped gently at my calves and the sun shone golden on the temporary frothy calm behind each one.

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I have seen some amazing spectacles on my travels so far: Machu Picchu; Caribbean beaches; Volcanic lagoons. However this is the first time an incredible sight has stirred such emotion in me. I felt like crying, or being sick, or something equally overdramatic. Maybe I only reacted like this because I had already been beaten down and battered; physically and clearly emotionally, by the scene I was now in awe of; I had just attempted surfing for the first time in New Zealand. 

 One of my intentions whilst in Piha was to learn to surf. After being here for one week of my total three, and having been surfing once, I have revised this aim to improving my surfing. Like maybe standing up on the board for more than a second. For many kiwis, surfing and the sea are what they have been brought up on. Not me. The sea kind of scares me; in fact I have recurring nightmares about big waves washing me away. But I’m the kind of woman who refuses to fear anything: confronting would-be intruders in the night (noisy pipes) with big spanners; ridding houses of large spiders; travelling the world alone. Trying to surf at New Zealand’s wildest beach is just my style.

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You’ve probably guessed how my first surf lesson went. I was just practicing catching waves in the white water (broken waves near the beach) and getting generally battered and bruised by the sea, my board, and swept scarily towards Lion Rock. And I really hurt my bum. But I’m not giving up! Totally intended to go for an early morning surf before brekkie today but after a bad night tossing and turning (probably more tidal wave dreams), I’ve had a lazy day, ending with an evening run to try and catch another sensational sun-down, this time on foot.

I left the hostel with a surge of the energy which had escaped me all day. Running my usual route through Piha, up hilly Garden Road to then turn to the beach, I spotted a track which I hadn’t used before, with many steep steps. I picked this route and with another miraculous energietic burst, turned back at the bottom of the steps and did them all again! I’m just mental, me like.

Once my lust for steps had been satisfied, I carried on to the beach, as the sunlight began to turn pinky-golden. Approaching the beach the sky was reflected perfectly in the creek which runs past Lion Rock to the sea.

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I had timed my run perfectly, the sunset was getting into full swing as I pranced across the sand. Again many walkers, swimmers and surfers had turned out for the daily treat. I saw a girl of around 6 with presumably her dad, surfing on the white water. She caught a wave perfectly to whoops, hugs and high-fives from her dad and I couldn’t help but beam. The peace and beauty was only broken by a little dog barking incessantly at it’s reflection in the mirror-like pools in the sand. I’ll let it off though, such amazing spectacles can bring about strange reactions after all.

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Piha2

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Morning motivation is not always easy to come by. My very first blog post highlighted the benefit of nice clothes to aid motivation. Other sources of get-up-and-go could be a future goal, maybe training for a race or an event. Here in Piha my a.m. inclination arrives when I open the curtains. Even after beers and late night monopoly (cray cray, I know), a glimpse out the window at the terrific terrain makes retreating back under the duvet a travesty. When I drift back to this time last year, living and working in Manchester, UK: walking to work in the dark; long working hours; short daylight hours; walking home in the dark, I’m pretty happy with my life choices right now. This morning I laced up my new sneaks (still serving me well), and bounded away on a trail run before work, to the nearby Kitekite waterfall.

The trail winds through the bush, with some good little hills and plenty for the eyes to feast on. After just 15 minutes or so I caught a glimpse of the waterfall through the trees and came down to the pool at the base. I spent a few minutes enjoying the peace (I didn’t see a soul on the trail) but didn’t go for a dip. Maybe next time.

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Descending back along the trail I took a bit more time to stay steady on the steep bits and appreciate my surroundings. This area of bush was once a kauri forest, before being stripped of the valuable trees by the early 20th century. There are now young kauri trees growing here again, which one day will hopefully reach the stature of their awesome ancestors, with diameters of up to 5 metres, living over 1000 years. This one is probably less than 100 years old, with a diameter of about 60cm.

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Kauri trees are now protected from loggers, but face a new threat of kauri die back disease. A disinfectant station at the start of the trail is part of the effort to quell the spread and protect New Zealand’s fave leafy giant. A huge hollow kauri stump of around 3m diameter still stands at the mouth of the trail, reminding bush-goers just how big these bad boys can get.

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I was back at the hostel after a very enjoyable half-hour run, ready to start my duties and spend another day in pleasing Piha.

Piha

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I have many memories of Piha from my previous times in New Zealand as a child: the black sand burning your feet; the wild surf; waves crashing through ‘The Gap’; Lion Rock. So I was excited to return after 13 years, now I’m all grown up. I’m going to be here for the next 3 weeks, volunteering at a hostel for free accommodation. I may have hit the location jackpot here, especially compared to my previous volunteering location; lacking Latacunga. Ok so Piha may be lacking a few things: a bar which stays open after dark; a supermarket; a cashpoint… But it really does make up for these shortcomings in natural beauty and outdoor opportunities. Thanks to this there is a steady stream of travellers, surfies, weekenders and more which keep the place alive and vibrant.

Piha is renowned in New Zealand as a top surf spot. It is also known for the dangerously strong currents and rips which pull surfers, swimmers and kids in dinghys out to sea. So much drama goes down on the black sands in fact, a TV series ‘Piha Rescue’ has been established, documenting the everyday heroics of the Piha Surf Life-Savers. I’m under strict instructions from my family to swim between the flags whilst wearing my best bikini, just incase I somehow end a starring role.

On my first morning in Piha I set my alarm with time for a quick run before I started work at the hostel. The skies were blue and the sun sparkled on the morning dew. I made my way to the South Beach along the little roads which are dotted with enviable holiday baches. My grandparents used to have a bach here, which I passed on the same road as the hostel. It still has the name my grandad carved from wood hung on the gate, Te Arawhata; ‘steps’, in Maori.

I made it to the beach feeling fresh and invigorated, though maybe not so much as the surfers, who were catching the first waves of the day on a sparkly sea. South Beach is dominated by a majestic beast, known as Lion Rock: a huge rock formation which looks like a a lion, keeping guard of Piha and looking out to sea. It is just as I remember it as a child and this time it was lit by a magical morning glint.

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After a short run down the beach I turned and headed back the hostel, ready for my first day of work, feeling energised and very happy to be here.