Category Archives: friends

Back in Utah!

After a repeatedly & much-delayed flight from O’Hare, I was back in Utah for my fourth visit in less than four years – being one of my favourite western states, I was much excited.  That excitement was muted a little by the lateness of the hour, picking up the rental car & completing the easy drive across Salt Lake City to Jeremy & Pam’s house.  It was fairly late in the planning of the trip that I realised I did actually, sort of, know people in SLC – having met Jeremy & Pam riding a very nice river trail in central Oregon two years previous.  They came through for us time & time again during our Utah stay.  With the late hour, there wasn’t much to do apart from say hello to those I’d kept from sleep, make a bed and hit the hay.

Waking up, I was a little concerned & surprised that it wasn’t much warmer than the dreary English weather I’d left behind.  After a brief, more awake, re-acquaintance with Jeremy & Pam they were off to work & we were out the door to a huge breakfast at a diner (complete with learn-your-US-presidents placemats – mostly remembered for the impressive quiffs of bygone centuries) chosen by Jeremy (as this trip progresses you’ll see we began to take any of Jeremy’s recommendations as gospel).  With a bit of faffing round looking for odds & sods for me, our small convoy (two Subarus) set off south for Moab.

It was a pretty leisurely drive down south over a pass as we struck off I-15.  The fresh snow was concerning considering ten days of mountain-biking & camping, but not too off-putting.

We stopped in Wellington City, of all places, for a playground expenditure of energy for Finn. I think I may have been the most worn out. I should have mentioned by now that I flew to SLC to meet best-friends from living in Canada, Alex, Megan & their son Finn for Moab adventures – this time biking. Moab being possibly the most famous mountain-biking destination, I was thrilled to be back (I had been here with Valerie on the roadtrip two years ago) and salivating at the chance to ride proper bike trails with rocks, climbs, singletrack and all those good things.  The plan was to camp for our entire stay, but rolling into Moab it was much too cold to be setting up camp with a toddler (a handy excuse), so we got a cabin for the night.

In the morning it was off to Poison Spider to pick up my rental bike – more about that later (except to say it was at the low end of the Moab rental bike range and cost more to hire than a late-model Subaru Forester – cars are cheap in the States!). And off to ride!

Belfast & Giant’s Causeway

With the trip rearranged for a week later due to the UK being unable to cope with a little bit of snow, we eventually made it to Belfast this weekend gone.  A plan was hatched a few months ago over drinks with workmates that we should go on a weekend break before Bhupesh’s visa expired & he had to go back to India.  It may be the middle of winter, but I’m hardly going to let such a trifling matter get in the way of a trip somewhere new.

With all of last year’s trips under my belt, somehow it fell to me to organise everything – perhaps I was the only one motivated enough to do anything on the planning side.  It was great to have friends along for a trip for a change, but organising it all and making sure everyone is enjoying themselves (I’m pretty sure most don’t share my love of history) while still trying to make sure I get to do the things I want to was something I was not used to.  When the accommodation rebooking fell apart on the morning of our departure, I was not enjoying being sole organiser; but plenty of emails, phone calls and not small expense sorted that out eventually.  In the end, I’m sure no one had a bad weekend, I got to see most of what I wanted and managed to get sufficient time to myself (three’s a crowd & all that).

Apart from the last minute hiccup, airbnb worked out well again – where else can you rent a three bedroom house for forty quid a night?  The neighbourhood in South Belfast was pretty grim, but as always I found plenty of interest – and taxis were cheap & prompt.

All that was left standing of the terrace across from the front door – I suspect because this house (the blue bit) had some sort of memorial to a fallen soldier

It didn’t get much better across the next street – demolition and breeze-block windowed houses, classy

An old library on the walk to catch the day-trip coach

The recommended activity for the day was a trip up the coast to see the Giant’s Causeway, so that what I managed to convince all was a good idea.  The day dawned bright & cool, but the clouds soon rolled in.  Our driver/guide for day was recovering from illness & seemed determined to drag us all down with him as he had the air-con continually chilling us for the first few hours – I’ve never seen so many people on a modern coach still wearing winter coats, beanies & gloves (it was quite a contrast to the infamous roach-coach).

We wound our way up the coast road with an informative commentary that never seemed to stop – I’m unsure just how many times I heard the phrase “there’s another little piece of useless information for you”, it’s a pity I’ve forgotten most of it, as it was truly useless.  Not to worry – the scenery was pretty and there still a dusting of snow around.  Our first proper stop was at the rope bridge of Carrick-a-Rede, which was a bit of a walk from the parking lot.  Graciela by now had developed a sore throat & was not keen on an exposed walk, so I headed off by myself into the bracing wind along the top of the cliffs.  There’s been a bridge over to the little island for over three hundred years, mostly for fisherman to get across to collect large salmon catches – but that has dwindled now & it is mostly tourists trip-trapping over the plummet to the sea below.

All I could think of was the Bridge of Death and the Gorge of Eternal Peril (Oh, whacko) and making sure I got the five questions, three questions, correct.  Convincing myself that my favourite colour is indeed still green and reassured by the bridge-keeper from the National Trust not looking a bit like the Old Man from Scene 24, I made it across safely.  There wasn’t too much to see on the island itself, but the view along the cliffs was nice & I could easily look over to the Mull of Kintyre (where I was with Mum & Dad but four and a half years ago).  The weather closed in again & started liquid-sunshining (raining) on me as I walked briskly back – it was a really pleasant hour out of the coach along beautiful coast.

Just down the road was the UNESCO World Heritage site of Giant’s Causeway, which I was keen to see as on the trip with Mum & Dad mentioned above we went to Staffa (not far away, but over off the coast of Scotland) and saw similar basalt columns.  It managed to stop raining for the walk down to the sea & we had a good hour or so mucking around on the large, wet, slippery regular paving stones – the tessellation results from the cooling of the basalt after a volcanic eruption.

Some of the steps suddenly dropped off a few metres – probably good not to get blown over there

Other people to take photos of me – hoorah!

The wind may have got up a bit more

It was a quiet & quicker drive back to Belfast – it’s always surprisingly tiring work sitting on & getting in & out of a coach all day.  We stocked up on breakfast supplies (potato bread is a thing of Irish genius – I bought extra to bring some back home) before warming up & heading out for a night on the town.  Belfast was extremely busy for a mid-winter Saturday, it took us quite some time to find a table to eat at in the Cathedral Quarter.  After which I was reminded how tedious I usually find nightclubs – on the upside, the pint of Guinness was better than the one from the night before.  Oh yeah, by now Graciela had all but completely lost her voice so while that was amusing on a superficial level it did somewhat kill the joviality of the night.

Sunday morning was a bit lazier, but I managed to get everyone out the door before noon – so I counted that as a win for not wasting too much of the day!  We pottered around City Hall (no Union flag flying, odd that) as nothing much opens in Northern Ireland before one o’clock on a Sunday.  The others were intent on shopping, I was more interested in eating – so I went & found a nice lunch by myself before we all headed out to the recent (last year) Titanic Belfast museum.

It’s a striking building

And there’s a feature wall of steel slab, which of course made me happy

The museum is very well done & worth the entry fee.  There’s a good split between how Titanic was built (shipbuilding is a large part of Belfast’s very proud industrial heritage), what the ship itself was like and, of course (the bit that was in the back of one’s mind throughout the rest of the exhibit), the disastrous sinking and loss of life.  There was also plenty about Southampton, another proud maritime city, so I really must go and check out some of the local museums when I’ve got spare time at home.

Not sure how I’ve managed to write so much about a relatively quiet weekend (I definitely did a lot less walking & saw less than if I’d been by myself), but it was a good one & I’m glad it all worked out in the end.

2012 was certainly different

For the first time in four years, I’ve managed to live in the same place all year and to be working for the same company at each end of those twelve months.  While this has given life a bit more stability this year, it hasn’t been without plenty of variety.  The event that influenced half of the year was having surgery on my shoulder to stop it dislocating.  Six weeks in a sling and six months before being fit to mountain-bike again was quite the upheaval – but it was all worth it as my shoulder is much more stable & predictable now.

Not being able to ride my bike did have the advantage of forcing me to find other things to do with my time & money.  Consequently, it turned out to be a bit of a travel year with twelve significant trips:

First up was an excellent week of skiing in the Alps with good friends

The day after the sling was banished, I finally crossed Rome off the top of my list – it had been there some time

The Pantheon was the highlight for me, followed closely by climbing St Peter’s Basilica

A week in Turkey was mostly spent in Istanbul, where the architecture continually impressed

Hot-air ballooning early morning in Cappadocia rates near the top of all I’ve done in the last three years away from NZ

Prague – with Te Puke school friend, Levi, a long way from Fairhaven Primary

The country was gripped by the Olympics late summer, great to be around for that

I was lucky enough to take a last-minute spare ticket & made it along to watch some of the mountain-biking – quality athletes & a great course to be a spectator

The highlight trip of the year was finally heading back to New Zealand for a whirlwind two weeks of thirtieth birthday parties (mine), a wedding (not mine), and tripping all around the country & spending time with dear family & friends (not to mention meeting quite a few additions that have arrived in the intervening three years).  There was also the added bonus of the physio declaring my shoulder fit for gentle exercise – so I managed a bit of mountain-biking and a ski too.

Treble Cone, near Wanaka, is a spectacularly beautiful ski field it turns out

These photos don’t come around as often as they should – excellent to have all the family together

Shortly after NZ, a work trip to Italy sprung out of nowhere – I managed to tack Venice on the end

Gorgeous city for a day – but I found the lack of trees, grass and bikes a little disconcerting

Pleased to finally make it back briefly to Edinburgh & even see the sun

I’d waited a long time to see Sagrada Familia, after hearing Dad’s stories – it didn’t disappoint and was, in a word, incredible

Watching football with eighty-odd thousand Spaniards at Camp Nou; Barcelona crossed off the top of the list

Still managing to explore England a fair bit, mainly the south – Leeds Castle (in Kent) was one of the most enjoyable visits

Fancy that, a summary of my year & no mountain-biking pictures, that should change next year – here’s hoping.  In the last few months I have been riding a fair bit (even though my bike-commute is short, the miles add up), but it’s pretty flat & wet (for now, or perhaps always) around here so the riding isn’t too exciting.  Work will be changing a bit next year too; I managed to be a process engineer of sorts for a year but am now moving into a different role scheduling the site’s production, amongst other things.

So that’s about it for this year – thanks to all who had me to stay, travelled with me, helped while my shoulder was out of action or simply kept in touch.  I’ll have to take this opportunity to wish all a merry Christmas and the best for the New Year, as I’ll be incommunicado then – Egypt will be off the list by the end of next week.

NZ Visit – Southern Week

Continuing the multitude of too-brief visits, I said my goodbyes to Elizabeth & Cara at Wellington airport & flew south to Timaru where Dad & Adele were waiting for me.  With not having seen Dad in the three-plus years I’ve been away (two and a half years for Adele), it was great to see them again.  It’s a relatively short drive down to Oamaru and amongst poring (& laughing) over family photo albums we headed out to the Brydone (was there another choice?) for a meal.

The fleeting visit to Oamaru over (it’s never been home for me), we headed down to Dunedin to pick Mum from university (only eight months since I last saw Mum in London, but of course great to see her too).  It was an afternoon’s worth of leisurely driving through Central Otago to get to Adele’s place in Wanaka.

Adele gave me heaps for taking this photo through the windscreen, so I should share it

We stopped in St Bathan’s for a quick look at the old mining town (bypassed by the highway, so it’s pretty quiet) and a pint in the pub.

This passes for an old building in NZ, nice pub it was too

We were about a day out with the timing for the skiing, missing the biggest dump (60 cm) of the season just.  Still there was plenty of spring snow to play in for Wednesday afternoon.  High winds dictated that we go to Treble Cone – alas only half of their chairs were running.  When I say half, I mean one – a little smaller than the skifields I’m used to over this side of the world.

Still, with the setting above the lake, the snow-capped mountains surrounding and the high country not covered in snow – Treble Cone is one of the more beautiful ski areas I’ve skied at.  As this was my first ski since the shoulder operation, I was keen to just test the shoulder out gently for the afternoon.  (Bizarrely, the guy that hired me the skis comes from the same village that I live in here in the UK.)  Being mid-week & partially closed, the ski area was pretty empty and Adele & I had a good time on & off piste and I was well pleased with my shoulder.

Wednesday was set aside for tiki-touring.  As we got close to Lake Hawea, we could see a big storm rolling in from the west across the mountains.  We quickly did an about turn and headed south for a very pleasant day exploring old Cromwell (the town was flooded when the Clyde dam was built) and old hydraulic mining sites around Bannockburn.  There was a good hour-long stroll around the old mine workings – the gold was in the sedimentary rock & extracted by what was basically washing the side of the hill away with deluges of water.  This involved rather ingenious & large systems for storing and then directing the water to where it was needed.  The landscape was strangely reminiscent of the badlands of both Alberta & South Dakota in some ways.

Part of the mining area – original height would have been slightly higher that that on the right of picture

One of the bigger reservoirs & not a very interesting photo

That storm really did roll in that night as we were going out for dinner & the rain was still pelting down early in the morning.  The time that I was awake that night was pretty much spent thinking that I wouldn’t get to go for a mountain-bike ride with Adele (who thankfully has finally discovered while I’ve been away that MTBing is pretty cool) that morning before we headed back to Dunedin.  But peaking out the curtains at seven o’clock the sky was strangely clear.  I hustled off to rent a bike – I wanted a bog-standard hardtail but the shop was so disorganised that I ended up with a softtail 29er for the price of a hardtail, score.

Riding from home, we were quickly climbing up the Sticky Forest.  My leg work at the gym while shoulder was recovering seems to have paid off, the hills weren’t much of a problem – although that may have been those big wheels turning.  The trails had drained pretty quickly & we stayed relatively mud-free. We skirted around the edge of the lake to Albert Town before crossing the Clutha River.

The object of the crossing the river was to get Deans Bank Track – a recent DOC project.

Wonderful get-up borrowed from Adele – my old Dobies shorts & a commuter jacket

A few switchbacks to get up on to the plateau before north-west

Pretty spectacular spring morning ride

It’s a well thought out loop & I imagine a very fast loop if it’s properly dry – we had a good time checking it out.  Once again I was pleased with how my shoulder stood up to its longest ride in a long time.

Heading back to Albert Town, you can just make out the new trail down there

So that was a great ride out, about four hours and interrupted only by Adele somehow managing to gouge her big chainring in to the top of her calf – still don’t know how she was able to do that while riding uphill.  Back to Dunedin that afternoon, coincidentally good friends the Careys (where I had one of my 30th celebrations) were down visiting (youngest daughter) Fiona – so that was a good excuse to have another meal out, not too mention seeing James & Becca (I lay the blame of me moving to Canada for a year firmly at their feet – not that I’m complaining about that).

We even remembered to have a family photo, I’m sure I’m not that much taller – must be the cowboy boots

Goodbyes were said Saturday morning (best I don’t dwell on that too much) & I was back up to Auckland for a final pack, check progress of Andrew & Shelley’s kitchen and then fly back to London via LA.  After years of people saying how much of a hassle security is at LAX when in transit, it turns out that is all false – we didn’t even have to go through security again, unlike at Hong Kong.  Home Sunday, back to work the next day to find that I was being sent to Italy the following week for work.  That was a real shame.