Author: Wouna le Roux

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Baldwins Bluff Trail

Date: 16 June
Distance: 10km
Time: 1:30

After our parkrun, we visited some art galleries in Perth, had lunch, washed down with beer/cider at Picabar, bought some food for two days, before heading south out of Perth. It was about an hour’s drive into the ‘heart of the captivating Darling Ranges’, when we arrived at the Serpentine Falls Tasman Holiday Park where we stayed a couple of nights. It was already late afternoon, so we poured a glass of vino and started with dinner.

During the night I thought I heard raindrops. But in the morning it was sunny and another gorgeous day greeted us. Rain was forecasted, so we decided to drive the scenic route through the Serpentine National Park. By 10am it was clouded over and a soft rain started to fall. At the historic town of Jarrahdale we stopped at the Jarrahdale Local PO Kitchen for coffee and lemon tart. The air smelt clean and everything was covered in a shiny wet layer. Tourists, locals and a biker gathering had the cafe buzzing with patrons on this Sunday morning.

The narrow road winds it’s way through eucalyptus (jarrah), in red and rocky soil. I was surprised to not have seen a echidna yet. The environment reminded me of our first venture into Australia (Tasmania) when we saw our first echidna. I was intrigued to read about their 4-headed penises (which are not used to urinate!).

A few more sightseeing stops in the rain, including a visit to the Serpentine Dam, and we completed the round trip back at our accommodation for lunch.

Gerry had to finalise his poster for the conference, and as soon as that was done, we went for a jog-walk to Serpentine Falls and the Baldwin Bluff trail. It was nearly half-4pm, and the sun would be setting in a couple of hours, which was a minor concern. But not enough to deter us.

From our accommodation it is 1.6km to the parking area. We walked the first kilometre which was next to the road, before starting on a slow jog into the park. From the parking area we jogged the 400 metres to the falls where massive swimming holes are located. The water was dark and looked eerie, but clean and almost inviting (if you’re that way inclined). Strangely enough, we are five days out from the shortest day of the year, and the temperature was warm and comfortable (19 degrees C). I can imagine people might go for a swim, even at this time of year.

After the quick in and out to the falls, we took on the Baldwin Bluff Trail which went in the opposite direction from the falls out of the carpark. It is a 6km trip out-and-back, meaning the first three are mostly uphill. There were bits of downhill and the last kilometre was flat-ish with just a minor ascent, totally runnable.

Underfoot was quite rocky, and my old self – watching out for snakes underfoot – kicked in immediately. There were a number of other people making their way up the hill, but mostly people were coming down the track back to the carpark, as it closes for vehicles at 5pm. We were huffing and puffing going uphill to the lookout as fast as we can. With all the action, snakes would presumably have scurried away anyway.

At the far end, we saw a pademelon pair grazing on the foliage. We could see the campsite where we stayed down below in a distance, about 5km away (only two as the crow flies).

We started on the downhill, which went a bit quicker than going uphill, although the tripping hazard slowed me down to the occasional walk. We reached the completely deserted carpark at around 5pm, and had a sip of water before heading out of the park. The last kilometre (as with the first one) we walked along the road from the park gate back to the accommodation.

It is a lovely trail, and I’m happy we could fit it in before dark.  

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Woodbridge Riverside parkrun +

Date: 15 June
Distance: 5k
Time: 00:31.25

Traveling by air is a waiting game. Just sitting around and waiting … waiting for flights, waiting to board, waiting to take off, waiting for food, waiting to get an innings in the toilet, waiting to land, wait, wait, wait, is exhausting at best.

I am less and less keen on the thought of crossing borders, simply because border control is a real pain in the arse (plus I am a bit of a nervous flyer). The whole ordeal is stressful. But to see other places around the world and experience other cultures and environments means you have to suck it up. Alas, it doesn’t get any easier. On the contrary. But I do love traveling around, or touring, by foot or car or even train. Walking from place to place for months on end would be my first choice.

While in Perth for the Aussie science communicators conference where Gerry will be giving a talk, we decided to do some events and see a bit more of the parks in and around Perth on foot. The one event would be a parkrun the morning after we arrived (sounded easy enough), and the other the Transcend 40km walk on 22 June, all going to plan.

But often things don’t work out as planned. There will inevitably be hiccups. For instance, the second flight from Melbourne to Perth was delayed. No surprises there. What was already a very long day, starting shortly after 6am in NZ, and ended at 11:30pm in Perth (3:30am NZ time), was also somewhat eventful. Arriving later than planned in Perth, we discovered that the car rental company who delivers cars to the airport, doesn’t deliver after hours. Should have read the small print. We took an Uber to the car rental, and were dropped of in the dark at night to a deserted industrial area. I was suspicious of everything that moved and didn’t move. They were meant to send us details for after hours pickup, but somehow that email slipped through the cracks. After about twenty minutes of cussing and cursing in the dark in the middle of nowhere, Gerry searched his emails again, and luckily found the email containing the details about the lock box that held the car key. Crisis averted. And thank goodness for roaming. What did we do in the days before smartphones.

Arriving at our Airbnb accommodation after 10pm, where we had a room in a house shared with others, it turned out one of the other residents took our key from the, yet again, lock box outside the house that is used for self check-in. Again, cussing outside, we had no telephone number to contact the host, or anyone inside the house. The house looked dark and we thought that everyone was asleep and didn’t want to make a racket, but Gerry knocked anyway. Eventually one of the occupants, the lady who took our key, opened the door and handed us the key. It would appear she had some or other safety concern – I battled to understand what she was on about. Had we arrived even later, we might not have been able to get inside. But everything worked out in the end. A miss is as good as a mile, as my mum always told us.

And here’s a funny thing; when you fly from NZ to somewhere in Australia, via Melbourne, your luggage cannot be checked through from A to B. Melbourne airport rules dictate that you have to collect your luggage, go through customs, and check it in again for the local flight. Maybe it is the same for any international to local transfer. But for some reason NZ doesn’t know this. It is the second time this happened to us (I forgot we had been in this situation before). We very nearly went for coffee at the nearest cafe, thinking our luggage is checked through to Perth, while all along it was going round and round on the conveyer. Should I be telling anyone at NZ airports that this is the case?

And to top things off, Qantas must have left our luggage outside in the rain in Wellington, as when we opened the suitcases, everything was wet. So excuse me for having a wet panty about air travel and customs.

Exhausted, but finally in bed, we had a surprisingly good sleep. Short, but good.

Perth has a lot of parkruns (19 if I’m correct), and we had five to choose from all within an 11km radius from where we stayed. This one, following the John George Trail, looked the best from the online photos, so we made uncommitted plans to do it. Bearing in mind jetlag, super late to bed, and no food whatsoever with us, apart from a few bags of rooibos (red bush) tea, which made it through customs. And incase you think I’m a rooibos tea fanatic for bringing no other edibles than rooibos on this trip, it was by accident that I had it. Everything happened last minute (due to a hectic schedule, coupled with an inability to make decisions), when I grabbed the small back pack I use for work as my hand luggage bag, which happened to contain some rooibos tea bags in a small ziplock.

When we woke up at 6:30am I somehow didn’t feel too knackered, so we had tea, got dressed and went to the parkrun. The sun was out, no wind, and only slightly cool. But a t-shirt and vest was enough for me, while most of the other runners were in shorts and t-shirts only.

The welcomes and announcements were made (poking fun at the kiwis for being a bit slow? As an expat I’ve never been able to fully understand the banter between Australia and New Zealand) and we were set off. The course is sealed and in a lollipop out-and-back shape; about 2km out, a 1km loop, and 2km back on the same path.

I was hoping to make 30 minutes, so was going out at a pace just shy of 6min/km. Quicker than I have run in about a year. I can honestly not remember when was the last time I could manage a 6min/km pace. I was obviously running too fast, I knew that, let alone continuously for 5km. My muscles felt tight – like they might tighten up and not release again, sending me flying. For the first two kilometres, I lifted my feet extra high and concentrated extra hard to make my legs work. It did cross my mind for a fleeting moment that a longtime family ailment (unidentified and undiagnosed) had finally caught up with me. Both my sister and brother have this thing where their muscles would completely freeze whenever they try to do something repetitive quickly. Neither of them can run, or swim, or do any sport. By the second step they try to take, their muscles would just contract and not release, rendering them incapable to move. At a normal walking pace, they are fine. We’ve collectively self-diagnosed it as a form of the fainting goat syndrome (myotonia congenital), for lack of knowing what it is. We’ve jokingly said that my mother wrapped then up too tightly as babies. And by the time I came along, she was more relaxed about the newborn.

I managed 2 kilometres at a sub-6 minute pace, but then the wheels came of slightly. I covered the next two kilometres at just over a six minute pace, still on track for a 30 minute finish at a push, but in the last kilometre I was brought to a halt and had to walk for a bit.

I contemplated my situation. The last food I had was shortly after lift off from Melbourne, some 15 hours ago (felt like days ago), which likely had something to do with it. Coupled with jetlag, I just couldn’t make myself go faster.

But the scenery helped. The park is beautiful; the track next to the Swan River, with eucalyptus, oak, wattle trees with patches of green open spots. All along the run we were accompanied by the sound of moaning ravins and chatty green cockatoos. After a short slow walk, I could jog again to the finish, but obviously missed the 30 minute goal.

It was the 402nd running of the event, with 224 participants. There’s a cafe (which supply all the volunteers with free coffee), playground and more. It’s is a gorgeous parkrun. The locals must be thrilled to have it in such a beautiful place.

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Mangahao Power Station to Reservoir #3

Date: 2 June
Distance: 16.5km
Time: 2:15

Yesterday we entered the Old Ghost Ultra, an 85km trail run, traversing the Lyell mountain range. It has been on our list (that endlessly long pipe dream list of events) for a long time, and when the countdown to the opening of entries was ticking down, Gerry and I were both sitting with laptops, ready to click click click, pay $360 each and Bob’s your uncle. It was much easier than I thought to get on the starters list – a list of only 300 participants.

Perhaps we got a bit carried away in the moment of trying to be one (two) of the lucky ones that ‘got in’, but now here we are. Entered, and a bit less than nine months to get ready.

Despite a reasonably good start in March (169km), the following two months were again a hit and miss. We just couldn’t keep it consistent. In April we managed seventeen activities and 197km, and in May nineteen activities and only 139km. Gerry was sick with who knows what, couldn’t/didn’t want to eat for about week, and generally felt unwell. With winter around the corner and the weather challenging to top it off, running was taking a back seat.

But with entries to an event that sounds fantastic in all respects, we decided to celebratenby going out for a run-walk where we haven’t been before. Thinking of venturing into the Otaki Gorge to summit Mount Hector, we soon realised it might be a bit too ambitious for my current fitness state. On top of the trail itself which is about 13-15km one way, and about 1400m straight up the mountain, there’s another 6.3km hike down the gorge road and over a massive slip. All up, the outing would have been nearly a marathon distance, with a lot of elevation, and only nine hours of daylight. It didn’t seem realistic.

So off to Shannon we went for a trip to the three dams in the Tararua Range . We knew about these reservoirs and were curious to see what it looked like. The plan was to drive to the Tokomaro No 3 Reservoir (8km from the Power Station at the bottom), then jog-walk past the Mangahao No 2 Reservoir to the Mangahao No 1 Reservoir, about 9km further into the mountain. But driving past the power station and starting the steep shingles single lane road, we soon decided that we’d rather have a look on foot before attempting it by normal car. There aren’t really turn-around spots and we weren’t sure what the condition of the road would be like.

That meant that we wouldn’t be able to make it to the furthest reservoir, as again, that would result in nearly 40km out and back if we don’t drive half of it to the campsite.

The road was reasonably steep, mostly uphill (490m) for 8km, of which we walked the bulk of it. About two-thirds in, a 1.2km downhill section was most welcome, before heading up again over the last kilometre or two to the reservoir.

The Arapeti campsite is basically just a clearing in the bush, overlooking the dam. No toilet (which I was hoping for, but ended up having to pee in the bush) and no water.  And no shelter, just an information board with photos about the erection of the dam wall. We looked around and walked to a small building, before starting to make our way back downhill.

The road was wet from the recent rain, and cool in the shade, but fortunately the temperature was about 13 degrees C with only a very light to almost no wind. Having said that, the cloud cover changed the mood to ominous. Seeing all the shot gun shells and alcoholic drinks bottles and cans next to the road, didn’t help. Add to that the usual dumping of rubbish, and you have me worried about the types that frequent this road. One such dump site even had photographs strewn in the ditch, while a couch was set alight in another spot with a dirty nappy, amongst the rubbish, still laying in a puddle next to the burned out couch.

We saw three guys on scramblers (off road motorbikes), not together, a girl on a MTB, a fancy new-ish ute, an SUV, a farmer and his wife in a clapped out old ute with a dead pig on the back, a party of two 4WDs, and two boy racer-type utes, on the road. The latter two (4WD and boy racers) being the types you do not want to encounter while on foot on a narrow gravel road. With revving engines, racing up the mountain, one on foot is very exposed with nowhere to go or hide. Sheer drop off in most places makes for a very scary road, especially by vehicle.

Back at the car, safe and sound, we poured coffee from the thermos, and ate some corn cakes with cheese and salami, before heading home. It was still an enjoyable outing despite the somewhat uncomfortable feel of it all. It’s amazing how ones mind can go off on a tangent when the mood (and the weather!) is just right, and you start to look for dead bodies floating in the dirty brown water beneath the dam wall, or a dead tramper next to the road, run over by someone drunk or drugged.

Perhaps I should stop watching crime series or movies. Hehe.

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Glen Oroua School fundraiser – lumpty dumpty

Date: 7 April 2024
Distance: 13km
Time: 1:33

After our last event at Tekapo (50km) in September 2023, our running dwindled quickly, and eventually came to a halt. School assignments had to be finished which included work for an exhibition in the middle of November. With no exercise and working around the clock, I got my first experience with covid which had me feeling crappy but less so than with flu. After three weeks, just as I was starting to feel better, the dreaded ‘cough cold’, which is worse than covid I’ll have you know, got the better of me. I strained intercostal muscles from all the coughing which put me out of the game for months (3 to be precise).

By the end of December, beginning of January, I figured I had to start doing something, so we went for easy walks. I was still out of breath from covid and the cold, so running wasn’t going to happen any time soon. I did attempt a jog once, but it was too hard with sore ribs and lungs that didn’t work.

Then came our trip back to the motherland where we again fell back into laziness, doing no running or walking for six weeks. That was the last straw. I was going to have to start over – no leg memory, no natural pace or rhythm, a heavier body to drag around, tightness, and cranky knees and hips. It was downright awful. I felt like a sack of potatoes every time I tried to run.

Nonetheless, it had to happen. I’m not done with running yet, so we started again on 4 March. Being a firm believer in the power of walking, we decided to walk 4km and run 4km every day. With every day I mean do it the first day, be buggered for four days before attempting it again. The second time I was again buggered for a couple of days, but the following week we could do four outings, and so things progressed. All up we managed about 20 run-walk outings for the month of March., most of them 4-walk-plus-4-jog. The two disciplines are slightly different, working different muscles, and to me it is a huge help when trying to get fit again. I can double up on the mileage without straining myself by running everything. Over the five days of the Easter weekend we extended the outings to 11km, running about half interspersed with walk breaks.

Then this event came along. Since we haven’t done any events in what felt like ages, we were keen to do one. Always more fun suffering with others around a course.

Although it was listed in the running calendar, it wasn’t well advertised, as was evident from the number of participants. Or perhaps the price tag and terrain was a deterrent? I counted 21 across all the run events (3k, 7k, 10k and 13k), and the bike event didn’t seem to have many more, as was the case with the walking event. Which is a shame being a fundraiser and all.

Since we started running again in March, our longest continuous run was about 4.5km, and I battled to keep to a 7min pace. Even though there was progress I felt like I wasn’t ever going to be fit again. I was uncertain whether I could or should try to run 13km, but at $40 entry fee regardless of what distance you do, I wasn’t going to do anything other than the longest event. Lunch (beautiful burgers) was included as well as dessert, but I still found it to be a bit dear, especially for those who came for a 3k walk. And also my allergies meant I couldn’t eat anything on offer, not even the chews at the drink stations.

Which brings me to the ‘course’. It is one big loop on a farm, private land so no worries about traffic which was great. Two water points on the course were placed at about 5km and again at about 8km stocked with water and chews. The organisers and all the volunteers were super friendly and supportive. Everything was wonderful except … But I’m getting ahead of myself.

At 9am the bikes were sent off, and five minutes later the runners, followed by the walkers. Surprisingly, once I got going, familiarity kicked in and I felt completely at home and ready for what was to come, despite really not being fit enough. Leg memory came back and the sack-of-potatoes-feeling partly subsided.

Although near the back of the pack, we managed a pace slightly under 7min/km. However in the last few kilometres I slowed down to over seven and sometimes 8min kilometres to average a 7:06/km pace. This was due to the increasingly rough terrain, which was just unnecessary and silly the last couple of kilometres.

Which brings me to the terrain underfoot. It is no secret that I despise running in paddocks. The terrain is just too uneven and bumpy, and a challenge on ankles and feet. Short stretches were on gravel roads and reasonably even, but other stretches went through small pine forests, which wasn’t as smooth and flat as I expected. Apart from windfall, pine cones, etc, we were running on a motocross track. This means a million little humps to run over, the kind where a motorbike would fly over a few humps at a time, but I wasn’t going quick enough! I found this a bit annoying.

The last 3km took us through bigger bike loops, humps, and hills, followed by a very rough cut stretch through weedy bushes which was downright terrible. Stumps sticking out, weeds  strewn on the sandy ‘path’, and heaps of tripping opportunities, turned this into an unpleasant finish.

On the bright side, I jogged pretty much all of it. I was a great test to see where I’m at, and I was pleasantly surprised to be able to jog 13k almost continuously when push comes to shove.

Would I do this event again? Probably not, unless the entry fee and course change. 😀

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Race Tekapo

Date: 16 September 2023
Distance: 50km
Time: 7:51

During the week leading up to the event, we followed the weather predictions closely, and things were looking increasingly grim. When an outing like this starts to get into the thousands of dollars, you don’t want anything to derail your plans. Winds of up to 100km/h (130km higher up the mountain) and a possibility of rain starting from 1pm were in the forecast for the event, according to YR. MetService had the rain starting at 4pm. We had all our compulsory gear, plus a few more layers (yes, I’m a wuss when it comes to extreme weather), and were crossing everything for not too bad weather.

The trip down was fine, but exhausting. We flew from Wellington early on Friday morning, so had to get up at 3:40am to drive down well in time. The wind was blowing like no tomorrow the day and evening before, and I was worried trees might be down/on the road, increasing our travel time. Fortunately nothing of the sort, and we could drive down in good time. The wind was still very strong, blowing our little car across the road, and I was stressing about the flight. I’m not a big fan of turbulence or sideways landings, but when we reached Wellington, it was calm and beautiful. I could not be more relieved. The flight was okay, a little bit of turbulence, with a decent landing in reasonable windy conditions, as Christchurch was more windy than I hoped.

When we walked out of the airport, the temperature was already a few degrees cooler than Wellington and Palmy. The rental car guy picked us up at the airport and drove to their place to sort the paperwork. Once we were on our way, we made by a quick trip to the supermarket for some last food stuffs, before making our way to Lake Tekapo. It is about a three hour drive and we were hoping to take it easy, stopping along the way, and not feel too rushed. It was about 10am when we left Christchurch.

Not a whole lot was happening along the way, and not many towns to stop for coffee or a breakfast. Most places were still closed. Fairlie, on the other hand, was bursting at the seams with queues out the door at some eateries and coffee shops. After a walk through town to find some hot chips and coffee, we eventually gave up and decided to stick to the bread, cheese and salami we bought at the supermarket. Why does one always want something other than what you have on hand?

We arrived at our accommodation at about 3pm, checked in, got our gear ready, and walked the 750m to the event registration. Registered and with a bib, goody bag which included a race branded Thir headband (!), our compulsory gear checked and drop bags dropped off, we made our way back to the lodge as it was starting to get dark. While cooking dinner, we shared a cider, and cranked up the heaters.

The temperature was already in the single digits and dropping though the night. Prediction was for minus one at the start of the race. When we got up, yet again before 4am, it was one degree Celsius. But the best part was there was almost no wind! It was obviously going to pick up sooner rather than later, but our 1.2km walk in the dark to the start was just very cold, not super duper cold from wind chill.

Race briefing was at 5:40am, and at 6am on the dot we were off – to the theme music of UTMB: Vangelis’ Conquest of Paradise. Haha. That was quite funny, but for the first few kilometres I was humming the tune in my head thinking, dreaming, about doing the UTMB one day.

From the start we went straight onto the walkway next to the lake, across a footbridge, past the Church of the Good Shepherd, and into the forest. The sun was starting to rise and by the time we reached the first aid station just on the other side of the forest (at 3.7km) we could turn off our headlamps. We ran a big loop in what looked like a paddock. Huge rabbit holes were strewn across the field, which reminded me of a time when I was 13 years old when I stepped into some animal’s burrow and nearly disappeared down the hole. I was in agony afterwards from spraining a few things, and to this day I wonder if that had anything to do with my wonky spine.

Back at the aid station, we stuffed ourselves with the wonderful spread of oranges, Heartland chips, Pam’s jet planes, and biscuits. The chips and jet planes were gluten free which was fantastic. Normally I can’t have anything at aid stations as most jelly sweets do contain gluten, and we have to carry our own sustenance.

We were going quicker than I anticipated, doing the first 10k in 1:15. Considering it was nearly flat and very easy underfoot, one could go at speed. But this was meant to be an event for us to take easy, not break ourselves, and just enjoy a long day out. But of course doing the first 10 so ‘quick’, I figured we could potentially try to do each 10k in one hour thirty minutes, to finish in about 7h30. It is still reasonably slow, and shouldn’t have a long tail of recovery. We had 15 minutes in the bank for when we have to go over Mt John, which would no doubt slow us down.

After a whirl around the forest of which parts are being felled, we headed back long the edge of the lake towards the start at about 21k. Passing next to the start/finish area, we topped up our waterbottels, feasted on the spread, and headed off towards the mountain. Although it is only about 300m elevation, the ascent is over a 2k distance – quite steep with no respite. A big part of the ascent was also in a forest and sheltered from the wind. But once we popped out above the forest, it was rather windy. And cold. I’ve started with five layers, got down to four layers, but had to put on my fifth layer again. My buff and beanie hadn’t come off yet, and neither the gloves. With a 6am start, it was still early in the morning and very cold. The poor marshals out on the course and on the mountain, just standing and waiting, must have been freezing.

Once partway down the other side of the mountain, we were diverted onto a sealed road that took us on a steep downhill to the aid station at 28k. We opted to have a dropbag there with more sustenance, some gherkins and prosciutto. We also added rain pants to the dropbag incase the forecast came true and it started to rain at 1pm. We passed the aid station twice (again at 43k) and could access these items on any of the two occasions.

Past the aid station, we took a right to run down another sealed road for another couple of kilometres before being directed back onto the trails. We were running downhill towards Lake McGregor, followed by a long stretch next to Lake Alexandrina. At about 33k on a grassy patch, my feet caught on thin air and I took a roll in the meadow. Luckily there weren’t rocks and the landing was fairly soft. However, all my weight came down on my right arm, which felt quite sore afterwards. Fingers and other joints could still move, albeit sore, so I figure nothing was broken despite the pain.

The stretch next to the Lake Alexandrina felt like it went on forever. At times the track was quite cambered, on top of being quite narrow, making running a bit more challenging. But having said that – this is the easiest most runable 50k I’ve done so far. Apart from the (about) 5k of steep climbs, the whole course is reasonably flat and easy underfoot. Some rocks in parts , and the potential for slippery mud on the downhill coming back off Mt John, but mostly very easy terrain.

We exited from the Lake Alexandrina trail at about 41k, to follow a gravel road back to the aid station at ’41k’ (it was at about to 43.5k). Still filled up from all the goodies at the aid stations we didn’t bother with our drop bag. Moved it to the ‘used’ pile and started on the uphill again. Despite the wind and it being reasonably cold, I took off my fifth layer (a thin down jacket) and gloves and put it in the outside pocket of my hydration vest.

At the top of the incline (about halfway up Mt John again), and with about 6k to go, we dropped down the other side, making our way to the finish. We passed a couple more 50k runners and a few of the 32k runners in this last stretch.

Unfortunately, somewhere in the last 6k, my little down jacket and gloves blew out of my bag and into oblivion, I guess. I hoped that another runner who may have come across it, might pick it up and hand it in, but sadly I haven’t heard anything yet (nine days later). Still crossing my fingers, but not holding my breath.

At the finish it was blowing a gale. We were wet from sweat, and started cooling down quickly. This was when I noticed my jacket was missing.

Gerry bought us mocchas at the coffee cart, we collected our dropbag, and started walking the 1.2km back to the lodge. After a shower, we headed back to the track and walked about 3k back along the course to see if we could find the jacket, but no luck.

With the horrible wind, prize-giving was moved from the race village next to the lake to the community hall where we had registration. Unfortunately this was so small that more than half the people had to stand outside, unawares of what was going on. When the numbers for the spot prizes were called out, the bush telegram were passing the numbers around outside the hall.

Afterwards, while people were bursting out the doors, we headed inside to find the white board with bib numbers written on it for minor spot prizes. Gerry got a spot prize and picked a pair of Creeper wool toe socks for me, which I can’t wait to try out. He also got a couple of free beers.

We headed home to cook the meat we bought, boil some potatoes and have salad, washed down with a red. By then my arm was so sore that I was certain something was fractured or cracked. I could not use it at all, and moving it in certain directions was pure agony. And everything else was more sore than I hoped it would be. Our latest long outings where we walked most of the way, meant I wasn’t very sore afterwards and recovered quickly. But we jogged more than I planned during this event, which resulted in more pounding. We were near the back and I felt bad for keeping the volunteers waiting in the cold, even though we made the ’41k’ cutoff with more than an hour and a half.

This remains the challenge in the NZ running scene  – people don’t want to participate if they’re not fast. Which means that running isn’t really inclusive. This would be a very good event for someone new to the distance, but with only a 121 participants in the 50k (6 DNS and 4 DNF) and a winning time of 3:49 (male), 4:06 (female), the field is very spread out and the back of the packers are few and far between. The slowest time was 8:48.

If we lived on the South Island I would do this event every year. It’s easy enough, great underfoot (when not wet), and fantastic organisation. The aid stations are wonderful, the course is well marked, and the event branded Thir headband was just the cherry on the cake.

During the night the wind picked up even more (is it even possible?) and it started to rain. The wheelie bins with giant rocks on them at our lodge blew over, and things looked terribly grim in the morning. I counted my lucky stars that race day was the day before things turned really nasty. We started gathering all our stuff, and packed for the road trip back to Christchurch. A quick drive through the village (we usually just pass through on the main road), while it was raining coupled with strong wind, before taking the highway. This time we decided to take the scenic route back, which to me looked the same as the other road. Or did I miss something?

We stopped for coffee at the one horse village of Burke’s Pass, but after a look around we ended up leaving without coffee. We drove past Kimbell, visited The Garage Gallery, and later stopped for filter coffee at the Fairlie Heritage Museum.

After taking the rental car back, we checked in at he airport and waiting for our turn. People were milling around and I dreaded the thought of having to fly in the horrible wind. The tail end of some of the strongest winds ever recorded in NZ (246k/h at Cape Turnagain, on the eastern side on the North Island) was blowing outside as we were waiting to board the plane. I found it hard to imagine flights were going ahead in the atrocious conditions.

Taking off was quite bumpy and a lot of turbulence. It was scary, but as we approached Wellington, it just got worse. I didn’t want to look, but the last time I did, the see was white and the water obviously super choppy. I closed my eyes and hoped for the best, when the pilot suddenly pulled up full throttle only to make a U-turn and head back to Christchurch. Three planes before us were already diverted, as were flights to Dunedin. All these flights were going to Christchurch. The landing was, given the circumstances, not too bad, but not the kind one would like to repeat.

With long queues of passengers trying to find out what next, emotions were running high and people were grumpy. Luckily Gerry was nearer the front end and could get a flight back to Wellington the next morning (it seemed almost too soon, as the stormy weather was still lashing the country), and also a nights accommodation at the Sudima Hotel. As we walked the 400 metres to the hotel, we chatted to another lady who was diverted from Dunedin. I couldn’t help but think to myself; what if the weather was so atrocious everywhere and there was nowhere to land? Which made me angry that the airlines took the chance in the first place. But I’m assuming they know what they are doing.

While we waited at the hotel to get helped, we bought a glass of wine at the bar, and just revel in being safely on the ground.

The next day we had breakfast at the airport, while our flight was delayed three times, in order for the wind to die out a bit. It was still blowing strong, but the water was less choppy and the landing was, again, not too bad given the circumstances.

Back home, two massive branches of a pine tree fell on the chicken coop and caused a lot of damage. The tree lost its central leader while it was still a small tree 14 years ago, and grew a heap of branches in its place. Some of these have the circumference of a pregnant sheep, and it was one of these that came down. The havoc it caused is immense: a row of Puhutekawa threes are all flattened on the one side, and some lost all branches. Our remaining apple tree (the other one drowned during winter) took a beating on the one side and some other indigenous tree are also damaged. The amount of work to clean up is vast, and will take a long while before we will have it all done.

Unfortunately, my arm (the one I fell on) took a turn for the worse. By the Friday after the event, I went to a doctor as I was sure something was cracked of broken. Turns out it must be torn ligaments and/or muscle. I was referred to the Hand Physio, but could only get an appointment in ten days time.

In the meantime, I’m pretty useless, and battle to see how I’m going to get everything done that need doing in the next couple of months (school work, cutting grass, pruning olives, cleanup pine tree, fix chook house, and the list goes on). On top of everything, I also picked up a cold of sorts, so no running anytime soon.

That’s the way it goes. Life will throw curve balls. We just need to figure out how to catch them.