Tag Archives: travel

Piha3

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Auckland2

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New Zealand is off to a great start for me. I’ve had a fab time since arriving 10 days ago: spending time with my Dad, family and old friends; going to the bach at Whangapoua; seeing places I haven’t visited since childhood; enjoying the great food and drink, gorgeous weather and general beauty of New Zealand.

Die-hard readers will recall my historic pre-travel posts, before I had ran away from the UK. Well my beloved trainers are not so fresh and so clean these days. Since they are minimalist transition to barefoot sneaks, they were never very robust in supporting my humble hooves on longer runs. However they’ve done me proud over the last four months; we’ve been through A LOT together. Now training with my super-fit father, their shortfalls and loose threads are beginning to show. Luckily I am in a developed country which has the UK shoe sizes printed in the tongues of trainers! Dad to the rescue: he bought me some nifty yellow New Balance runners. They must be magic because they somehow make even MY legs look tanned! What more could you want from a trainer?

I test drove the new penny loafers with my papá yesterday on the same North Shore route as last week. It was a cloudy morning, making for cooler and more pleasant running conditions. The views weren’t quite as great but the people of Browns Bay were undeterred and the beach was full of dog walkers and early morning exercisers. Due to a combination of the cooler climate and familiarity of the route, I felt more energised and ready for the hills, twists and turns and did a better job this time round. The trainers held up well and I cooled down with blister-free feet. It was the last run I will enjoy with my Dad for a long time; let’s hope I can stick to the pace and distance once he’s gone!

Tomorrow I leave Auckland for another new beginning; volunteering in Piha, a surfy beachy place I also remember from my days as a New Zealand nipper. My Dad is heading back to the UK and I’ll be a Lone Ranger once again; just me, my new trainers and the open road. Only now I won’t be too far from a familiar face; having family somewhere nearby is a comforting thought. The NZ unknown is calling and I have so much to see, bring on the next 6 months!

Whangapoua

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‘Harbour of the Shellfish’ is the translation from Maori, of Whangapoa; a beautiful bay and estuary, rich with shellfish and native bush. Evidence suggests it may have been the first arrival point of humans in New Zealand, when intrepid Polynesian explorers arrived here 900 years ago, having sailed the Pacific in dug-out canoes. And it’s no wonder they decided to settle here.

Many people are still making the most of the natural bounties and beauties in the area, including my kiwi family. My aunty and uncle own a bach, or holiday getaway here (pronounced as in batch of scones, rather than cello suite in G major). They have done an amazing job: building a little house on the land; an outdoor pizza oven, and making the garden and outdoor areas generally lovely. After an evening making the most of the beauty, booze, food and views, I woke to a gorgeous sunrise, snoozed a bit more, laced up my trainers and was ready for another run with my dad.

It was a glorious morning and we ran down to the main road into Whangapoa, making our way along to the jetty. I’ve found the weather here in New Zealand to be just my cup of tea; hot but not too hot, not muggy or humid, and with a cool breeze when you need it. I swear my health and beauty has flourished in the past week thanks to this, even with the plentiful wine and luxurious food I’ve enjoyed. I seem to have got more tanned here in one week than in the whole 15 weeks in South America, and I haven’t even tried!

It was bank holiday weekend and the road and jetty was abuzz with other weekenders: fishing, boating, canoeing, running and cycling. How better to spend a long weekend than in the great outdoors? And the outdoors is certainly great here in New Zealand! After our run (ending on the killer hill back up to the bach), the day was spent on the beautiful Matarangi beach with all the family. Then another night at the bach with fresh pizzas and flowing drinks.

I enjoyed and extra long sleep and woke to see my dad in his running gear, ready to kick start the day with another run. We headed away from the coast and towards the areas of forest inland. Green fields and rolling hills surrounded us, a field of lambs and a ram stopped and stared as we passed. I had forgotten what a beautiful country New Zealand is in my 13 years away. I can’t wait to see more of it, especially if I make it to the South Island.

After an hour or so running, ending with the mega hill back up to the bach (which I managed second time around!), my legs were pleasingly achy for the rest of the weekend and I indulged in more kiwi culinary delights including the biggest ice cream I’ve ever eaten!

Quilotoa

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After my less-than-raving review of La Laguna de Latacunga, in support of fairness and balance, I thought I should write about a really spectacular lagoon not so far away. Even though it doesn’t involve me running. The lagoon sits in the crater of an dormant volcano, Quilotoa, a couple of hours from Latacunga.

Life in Latacunga, whilst I am volunteering at a pre-school ‘teaching English’, is the most hermit-esque I have experienced on my travels so far. I’m a very positive person, so my lack of words on this town could speak volumes. Hence I was excited to escape the drudge on a volcanic/mountainous/lagoon adventure with a friend at the weekend.

The first leg of our journey was a bus ride from Latacunga, up (further) into the mountains to Zumbahua. Zumbahua is a small town at 3700m altitude, populated by indigenous, or Quechua people. After getting off the bus we wandered around the market, and I got an idea of the everyday essentials in Zumbahuan life. We did stick out a fair bit; my fair hair; our backpacks; not to mention standing (at least) head and shoulders over 90% of everyone. Actually maybe 100%. My friend overheard a woman telling her child to behave themselves, or the gringos would take them away! I was simultaneously relieved and disappointed not to see the cui (guinea pig), bargaining we’d heard took place here, and we took a car onwards to Quilotoa.

The Quilotoa crater and lagoon are not visible as you approach, only when you walk up to the edge of the rim, can you see the incredible picture-postcard view. Because of this, I couldn’t manage to get the whole thing in one photo (even on panoramic mode; I tried).

The descent into the crater is a steep and sandy incline. Although not easy on the legs, the beautiful scenery made it far less than a chore. After breathing in the beauty for a while we reached the shore of the lagoon and took a leisurely paddle around in a kayak. Supposedly dormant, there was still evidence of volcanic activity which we found in hot water seeping from the rocks, painting them bright red and orange with mineral deposits, and natural jacuzzis bubbling up to the surface of the lake.

Back on shore we set up camp, collected firewood, and watched the sun go down behind the steep walls of Quilotoa which surrounded us. After a not-so sound night’s sleep, with strong winds and hard ground, waking up to the views of the lagoon made it worth it. One aspect which was particularly incredible was the reflections of the sky and the clouds on the lagoon. Being so close to the clouds, their shadows painted a flowing, dramatic contrast of colours on the surface of the vast lagoon.

Later in the day it was time to make the dreaded ascent back up to the mouth of the crater. Aside from the steep and slippy terrain, we were making the climb up to 3900m altitude. We took it slow and edged our way back up, taking a while longer than on the way down, and meeting some llamas on the way. They weren’t really as friendly as they might look in this photo.

Canoa2

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The sun blazes pinky orange, setting over the Pacific Ocean around 6:30 every evening in Canoa. So at 6pm yesterday I decided to head out for what will probably be my final coastal run in Ecuador. Barefoot, I headed South down the beach, away from the town (watching out for spiky shells).

Canoa’s long, long beach is home to a variety of creatures (seabirds, vultures, weird wriggly worms, snails…). But my favourite has to be the hundreds of bright red crabs who wile away their days digging little holes in the sand and then standing guard halfway out of said hole. In the five days I spent in Canoa, playing a game of chicken with these little guys; seeing how long they would stare you out before they plopped down into their den, never got old. It certainly made the first km or so of my run fly by. Then I found a sorry little crab flailing and stuck in his little hole which had caved in with the incoming tide. Ungratefully, he pinched me when I tried to save him but I think maybe his eyes had been pecked off so he was having a pretty rough day and I couldn’t really blame him for being bad company.

After 20 minutes or so running the sun was almost down and the light was dying so I turned back to the hotel. Unfortunately my camera isn’t the best so didn’t really capture the colours and beauty of the sunset to its full effect.

I really enjoyed my stay in Canoa, I’ve left now and am writing this on the bus to Guayaquil. It was a great place to keep active (swimming, surfing, volleyball, football, walking and of course running), without paying for expensive day trips or activities. Compared to cities and towns (think Mindo’s driveways/Quito’s altitude), beach running really is a no brainier; beautiful, super easy navigation and best friends with hench legs! What’s not to love?

Quito

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Quito: the world’s second highest Capitol City (after La Paz, where I opted not to run), at 2800m above sea level. A few places I had been to in Colombia were at pretty high altitudes, Bogota is over 2600m. However by pretending they weren’t and not listening when people talked about how high they are, I had managed fine with my running. Now in Quito, I decided to take the same ‘ignorance is bliss’ approach. And in this ignorant bliss I enjoyed 2 days in Quito and the surrounding areas; climbing the many stairs and rickety ladders of the Basílica del Voto Nacional, to stunning views of the city; visiting a fantastic artisan market in Otavalo; having a general wander and getting my first taste of Ecuador. Going for a run: ne bother.

This morning I set my alarm for seven (after a criminally early night for a traveller), and was pounding the pavements by half past. Luckily I was even earlier than most of the city’s commuters, and the streets were fairly quiet. I headed for a nearby park which I had checked out the previous two evenings. Both times I had been there before, there had been dramatic games of volleyball going on, amongst men who looked like they had just finished work. These games were obviously a big deal to the guys involved and had drawn crowds of a couple of hundred or so men to spectate. There was not a single woman in the crowd, and I felt like I was breaking some unwritten rule by being there. Clearly I love breaking rules which exclude women from societal activities so I stayed and watched for a while.

This morning there was no volleyball happening, however the people of Quito were still loving their active pursuits a la mañana. A group were doing a martial art, complete with big sticks and vocal sound effects. There were a few runners, and many cyclists opting for the 2 wheel commute. And of course my old fave: the urban gym. I was impressed and surprised by the popularity and diversity of this gym. Men and women of all ages crowded the bright gym equipment, enthusiastically repping up a sweat before the 9 to 5. I tried to get some sly pictures from afar without looking like an urban gym pervert again, I only wish I’d bitten it and gone and got stuck in there myself. I did however rack up 2 laps of the park (mostly for those extra urb-gym glimpses), before heading back to the hostel as the roads and pavements began to clog.

And so my ignorant bliss, I was bound to fall from it at some point. After a hearty breakfast which I felt like I deserved, I headed out to check out some local museum and gallery culture. Heading down the street, I felt light headed and dizzy, and was struggling to utter a few words at more than a whisper. Struck down by altitude yet again, I clearly haven’t acclimatised to (a runner’s) life in the mountains. I traded in the culture for a morning in bed listening to British radio, which was actually a satisfying culture fix in itself.

Guatape

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The small town of Guatape had been recommended as a must-visit trip from Medellin. I had also pinned it on my pintrest ‘travel’ board, most of which I have missed or forgotten about; I had to make the effort for this one! I had hoped to stay there for a night but given my last minute style of organisation, the hostels were fully booked and I headed out for a day trip instead. This meant that I unfortunately couldn’t fit a run in, but I did climb up a really big rock so I’ll tell you about that.

The big rock, or ‘La Piedra’ is undoubtedly the main draw of the little town of Guatape. The monstrous formation seems to be bursting from the Earth and is a pretty unusual vision to behold! Stairs have been constructed in recent years which allow anyone, at a small fee, to climb the beast and access the incredible views from the top. It was a lovely bright morning and off the bus from Medellin, I set about conquering La Piedre. After scaling a challenging 659 steps and about 20 minutes I was at the top, soaking up the views to a coconut ice lolly. The rock and town of Guatape lie on little islands in a huge lake, blue waters and lush green islands filled the landscape as far as I could see.

After a while chilling up on the rock I descended to ground level and caught a little open top car into Guatape town. The town was a pretty and colourful place, making the most of the tourism brought by the rock and it’s beautiful lakeside location. After wandering around for a little while and treating myself to a buñelo (Colombian deep fried cheesy dough ball-yes, mmmm), I caught the bus back to Medellin. It was the final of the South American cup that night and Medellin’s Athletico Nacional were in the final; I was hoping for a victory and for the city to live up to its party reputation!

rosarunningaway

My experiences running, around the world.

Tag Archives: travel

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Piha2

Piha

Auckland2

Whangapoua

Quilotoa

Canoa2

Quito

Guatape

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