Rogaining with Bryn

I don't do many rogaines in Wellington, it is often too hilly, gorsy, roady and random for my liking (yeah harden up aye). Last night Bryn Davies and I managed to get out to Karori though and had a great Wednesday night suffer fest, 26km in just under three hours taking in Johnstones Hill, Otari/Wilton Bush and Wrights Hills on the way.

My main reason for blogging is to record the links to Bryn's GPS data, complete with maps, average speed, resting time, climb, etc. The wonders of technology!

Late Summer in Wellington

The weather has been special this week, and there is nowhere on earth better than Wellington on a good day. Apart from 50 odd hours of work what have we managed to squeeze in...

Well first it was Karapoti, New Zealand's most famous bike race. 1000 people traversing the Akatarawa wilderness north of Wellington and then coming back again. Penny did great and had a big smile on her face at the end despite her dire predictions (I knew she was well and truly tough enough to enjoy it). My effort was not quite so good, breaking a chain after 5km, and completing the remaining 45km by scootering, free wheelin and pushing. I got to yarn to lots of people though, going past me.

That evening we camped with some friends at Kaitoke Regional Park, the home of Rivendell, lovely forests and copious camp spots. Its location so close to the suburbia of the Hutt is unusual, but it is a well managed and beautiful spot. And its close to the blueberry cafes of the Akatawawa valley where we brunched. They couldn't get eftpos so they gave us an iou, hears to that and pancakes.

Back into town and it was a couple of hot hours at the Newtown festivals with myriads of stalls and buskers. There is always something interesting to see in Newtown, but this was something else as were the samosas.

Then finally for the weekend a bit of opera. Clementine Lovell, a friend of a friend, we had heard her sing at their wedding, so were up for a trip over to historic Thorndon and the interesting venue of the "Moorings", which is an old ballroom/den/secret society ritual room, located at the back of an old villa, the bottom right bit of the following photo...

I have never really "got" Opera, but hearing it in the flesh is great, the distillation and magnification of emotion is intense, at times I felt the hairs standing up on the back of neck. And watch for Clementine Lovell, New Zealand's next international opera star?...

The working week started well, with Swing dancing to look forward to. We are following in the footsteps of our friends Penny and Nick. Check out this outrageous first dance from their wedding over summer, which we were honoured to attend on Waiheke Island.

It might take a while to reach quite that level...

Ah and then what else has happened, a 5km race and meetings on Tuesday, then an evening hanging around with an old friend Tom on Wednesday, checking out the local Tibetan solidarity movement and watching a film on the latest environment issues in Tibet, then an amusing time heckling at the Backbenchers political debate....its easy to keep busy!

Akatarawa Video

Here's a quick vid from Mick of our trip in the weekend, doubling as a promo for the National Rogaine Champs next April. See us trying stay dry!(and failing)

Mt Wainui and the river at the back of yonder

Well I've got mixed feelings about this mission, you see it was a long time coming and seldom have I failed so bad in completing a mission. The idea was great, a traverse of the Whakatikei river from source to sea. But it wasn't to be, among other things my ankle wasn't going to let it happen. Bodies! One day primo the next day poked. Mortality sucks. On the positive side though it was a great afternoon out with a couple of mates; Mick and Ramash, in a neat little part of our world. Here's to that.

The Whakatikei is a rugged part of the Akatarawa range that drains eventually into the Hutt river. It is targeted eventually to be the next dam site for Wellington water consumers. But at the moment it is just a beautiful mostly prisitine hidden gem on the edge of our capital city.

View Larger Map

The headwaters of the Whakatikei is the east tending stream in the middle of this (old) photo.

The first task was to get to Paekak, and in true carbon conscious fashion we took the train. Note to self, "trains run on time". Reunited we headed out through Paekak cutting through some farmland on QE 2 park (or maybe not - see land boundary below Mick) to McKays crossing, and then up through the old Whareroa farm which is being actively developed with walking tracks as part of a green corridor from the sea to the hills.

There were no tracks where we were going however. Straight up the hill following a fenceline watching the ocean and Kapiti island grow bigger behind us.

Wainui is capped by a couple of hundred metres of bush and we soon ploughed into this following a rough, but appreciated route, marked by a local DOC ranger, at 722 metres Wainui peers down at a fault line running along its western foot known more commonly as transmission gully, but in the mist we couldn't see much at all.

For us there was only time for some preventative foot action.

And them it was down into the creek, and what a little beauty it is, slimy rocks quickly give way to bigger grippier bouders or level riverbed to gallop down, and the trees are big, rata, rimu and the other podocarps tower all around when the lower canopy parts from time to time. Or they fall and provide obstacles or features in the gorge.

We had the occasional swim or scramble. It wasn't warm out of the sun, but even in the deepest confines of the valley the sun was never far away.

Out eventually, and it was power lines that signalled our return to civilisation, or not. We were at least out of the gorge, but we were still in the middle of nowhere. It made me reflect that in New Zealand some of our best adventures are in "pylon country" where electricity infrastructure required the battering out of roads across hostile terrain. I'm thinking the Borland Road, Dennistoun to Lyall on the Buller, McKenzie pass down south. Pylons can be beautiful with history and nostalgia on their side.

Being in the middle of nowhere we walked around the corner and bumped into "Orange Hut". The mythical heart of trail bike and 4wd drive culture around Wellington. True to its name it is painted Tui colours (as in the beer) and smells of man. Outback man. A concrete silo with bunks its austerity is only just resistant to the the type of graffiti and abuse that huts within reach of petrol powered transportation are subjected to. Mores the pity, it is a good spot.

It was here that we bailed, turning our backs of the further river journey opportuned and heading home with our tails between our legs, following the pylons back to Whareroa and down the hill. A good mission left incomplete for another time.

What's be Happen

I had a blog going for a little while called "What's be Happen". It was named after the Herbs first album, an experimental anti-apartheid manifesto. I decided in the end that I couldn't be bothered separating life and thoughts, so I reverted to the single blog for our adventures.

But "What's be Happen"? Well I've been working a little, for money, for a change (as opposed to working for change for spare change). The Kennet Brothers, principally Jonathon, now Simon has succumbed to the lure of the bureaucracy, have been giving me a couple of days a week work making mountain bike trails, and I couldn't be happier. It is rewarding work, spinning yarns and making sweet switchbacks.

The skyline track traverses the ridges high above Wellington linking the south coast with Mt Kaukau and beyond

Jonathon is a bit of a legend in my regard. Him and his brothers were pioneers of mountain biking in New Zealand. They started the Karapoti race, the wrote and continue to write the Classic New Zealand Mountain Bike guide book. Jonathon with others also wrote "Classic New Zealand Adventures" which I have long admired for its fun loving promotion of getting out there on tubes, foot, bike and many other vectors of movement to enjoy the NZ outdoors. Most importantly though they have pioneered a movement which I am going to seek to promote and contribute to called "mountain biking ecology"....they have taken regenerating areas of scrub, and not only built mountain bike tracks on them, but also planted trees and controlled predators. In doing so they have laid the path for mountain biking to follow in New Zealand. Down this path mountain bikers are, and will continue to be, accepted by other more established outdoor users and exist sustainably in our landscapes.

Otherwise What's be happen? Well we had a nice run on the edges of the Tararuas, which I will report from when I get the photos off Caspar, and I am trying to make progress on a variety of projects, most prominently at the moment the rock wren conservation project in Arthurs Pass and the Evans Bay Coast Care group that I have started...and then there is the job hunting...

Matiu

Lunch with self confessed "white collar greenie" and long-time committed conservationist Colin Ryder, somehow led me to the ferry next day, and Matiu/Somes Island. The little place that sits out there in the middle of my office view. Matiu has a chequered history; fortress, quarantine station, p.o.w camp and farm. It is now a recovering island paradise. Dedicated volunteers have replanted all but the most historic sites on the island, and now the bush is starting to flourish. Kakarikis, which I have not seen so close since a visit to Whenua Hou, play like fighter jets through the whiteywood.

Tuatara live here too, and weta. Cook Strait Giant Weta! And Blue Penguins around 800 banded at last count. The uncommon spotted shag roost on the south end of the island, which we peer over, looking back towards Wellington, the natural city, nestled in the arms of Tangaroa. It is great to be out here. This place that so many stare at. On this harbour of the many moods.

Greytone

Its greytone today. Southerlies from Africa, straight down from the Cape of Good Hope (where they are northerlies) over the frozen continent and straight up our spines. The front last night dumped plenty of snow on the Tararuas. I can just see the thrills of the skirt now. Just before the sun shone briefly on the headwaters of the Hutt. A haze of piercing subdued light, which I know from my time in the mountains can give false warmth and optimisim before the greytone returns.

Cycles

Penny hates it more than me, heaving her hefty bike up the path on cold mornings. I like pretending our path is an adventure race. It is slippery enough to be.

I was out for a Saturday morning cruise, down the footpath through Treasure Island to the Hataitai beach and round the waterfront looking for photos. It was an unusually misty morning and the becalmed yachts looked into the fugg fearfully.

Yesterday before the rain hit I had been intending to take some photos down at the "arsehole of Wellington". The gravelly beach of Evans Bay. This beach is the terminus of the body of water that sweeps below our flat. Northerly one day, southerly the next. It captures for a time any plastic debris that doesn't get sucked out the mouth of the harbour. Evans Bay Beach is the first piece of coastline any visitor drives by after leaving the international airport. Unfortunately the narrow built up verge and neglected plantings serve to shield it from their eyes...

I used to feel superior to the Guatemalans and Indonesians, in regards to their attitudes towards rubbish. Now I just feel shame. Would we do any better if we didn't have to do more than just leave it at our door. Hell no! At least they are not hypocrites, prepared to live amongst it, rather than pretend it never existed. I will never forget seeing an albatross chick vomit a plastic glove. I am reminded everytime I see plastic intermingled with the pebbles on a beach. Everytime I see another shitty single use container, or bag used in my hand. Even in the paper today, there is a report that the rare Blue Whale washed up on the West Coast was found to have a 7metre length of heavy duty fishing rope stuck in its throat. No one would have dared check its gut I suspect.

I moved on via Miramar to something infinitely more hopeful. A planting day for Forest and Birds Places for Penguins group at Tarakena Bay. Over 1000 plants, coastal and dune specific, were planted to revegetate an area to encourage little blue penguin nesting. Efforts are being made to revegetate the coast side of the road because too many penguins are being killed crossing the road to nest in the more established bush. A little video clip best shows the industrious little group at work.

And there is action around the world. Watch this video! It is one of the most surprisingly good environmental action videos I have seen. Take care out there.

A gap in the weather

There was a little gap in the weather yesterday. The southerly was still howling but it had run out of squalls to throw down upon us. The sun even came out for a bit. I was going for a run with Caspar, who lives just behind Massey University out the back of downtown Wellington. From the end of his street, like amny streets in Wellington, you can run up a zig zag path into the bush. Central Park near there is a derelict jungle ofhomeless people, weeds and tracks in disrepair.

We headed south along the Southern walkway. Through this wilderness studded with playing fields. I had my map from the recent City Safari, and was enjoying checking out the hidden trails. The Scottish Harrier clubrooms lie at the centre of it all, in a dark gloomy valley. Although not quite looking as disused as the Wellington Harrier Club in the macrocarpas of Mt Vic its not much better than the local tracks, which head up and down facetiously, thwarting all but the most intrepid.

Caspar and partner Nadine are looking at buying a house, so we stopped past there in a hidden valley of Berhampore. If its hard for a Doctor and a Computer programmer paid in US Dollars whats it like for the average wage? Down through some more parks and up a ridiculously steep hill and then the interesting stuff begins. We are at the highest point of Manawa Karioi Maunga Kawakawa and there is a Pouwhenua (sculpture) here overlooking Happy Valley/Island Bay and much more of the Wellington isthmus.

We descend down a rough ridge on the Happy Valley side to a bedraggled looking valley. But what we find is quite uplifting. Community work in action. The valley is an old landfill that is being revegetated. Prestons Gully or Tawatawa Reserve is a long term project developed by the Wellington City Council, the Southern Environmental Association and local residents. It looks great, an informal recreation area surrounded by regenerating wetland and forest. Of course at the moment it is just gorse but the dream is there!

Running back over the hill towards Island Bay we ran smack into another ecological restoration project. The first signs were nice mowed tracks through native bush just starting to deplete its gorse nanny. Then there were some interpretation signs. A story about goats brought in to control banana passionfruit and other weeds in an organic mater, and another about a valley developed as as a seed source for future reforestation. Then when we popped out at the bottom of the hill we found the entrance to Manawa Karioi and the incredible building of Tapu Te Ranga Marae. The worlds largest recycled wooden building, it is a home for many, spawned of the Maori reniassance and anger of the 1970's. It is fascinating stuff. The kaumatua is Bruce Stewart, known for his angry prose and verse as part of the disconnected urban Maori. I have a cherished copy of his book "Tama" that I have had for many years....

Pono

It is possible to quieten me
for a while by blocking your ears
At times I've been buried - hidden
for centuries
but I will always surface
...sometimes with a scream
for there are those
who have nothing left but
their bodies - voices
Take your hands from your ears
hear their screams

I think it is fair to say that the house has many stories to tell. I would like to investigate further in the future...and there are working bees every couple of weeks on the restoration. It had been an interesting run, and we continued it running over Mt Albert and down past the baboons and kangaroos of the zoo and down through the hubbub of Newtown to finish the exploration first time through of another part of Wellington.

Wildlife at home

We've just finished moving into our new flat, high up on the backside of Mt Vic in Wellington, with a big view out over Evans Bay to Miramar Peninsula, Somes Islands and 'the Hutt'. It's a great little place, we tell people its not so much a crappy house but a cute little bach. But anyway pics will follow at some stage, but what I was really mulling over tonight was the wildlife we have encountered, so far, at our new flat.

First up were Maurice (the weta) and Harold (the gecko) who live under the stump on the deck in some wierd sort of reptilian insectivorious sort of relationship. Once we discovered them we hurriedly returned the stump to its spot and at least Harold slipped back under. The stump is now tapu from further disturbance for at least another month or so.

On the weekend we were having tea and muffins with some friends on the deck when Penny noticed a disturbance out in the bay, it turned out to be dolphins. The fizzed in towards us tracking a windsurfer who was unaware of their presence. There must have been at least ten in something of an arrow formation, the energised leaping out the front the more sedate just keeping up. I'm not sure what caught their attention but they turned in a big arc and headed back out towards Somes Island.

The last fellas that have me thinking are the snowbound Siberian Tigers I just postered up on the wall (nothing like a bit of postering to make the place feel more like home). I was wondering both if they were hot or cold and whether looking at them made me feel hot or cold. I think overall they make me feel hot.

The fun of orienteering

We've been orienteering for a while now, and all to often it gets all too serious, so its fun to kick back and do something low key on a sunny day in a beautiful place somewhere new. Thats what we got up to last night over in Seatoun on the edge of the Harbour entrance, where you can sit on a big sandy beach and gaze over at the forested Hutt valley. Fellow elite orienteer Lizzie Ingham one of the organisers for the evening had the same idea...

Lisa Eagle was down from Hastings, where she lives the pampered wife of a local optometrist. Lisa's given up the pretense of been an athlete now (unlike us...we stick with the pretense) but she used to be damn good. You know the older you get the better you were! But nah, she seriously was a talent and Penny and I were both lucky to be in the same team as her for Junior World Champs, me in 1999 (Bulgaria), Penny in 2000 (Czech Republic). And we got her back out there, heres the evidence.

I have a real soft spot for old war time gun emplacements and home guard sort of relics. So it was great to rise from the streets and school of Seatoun onto the wild slopes of Point Dorset where eyes once scanned the harbour entrance for lurking dangers from concrete bunkers. Penny scrambled down into one to clip the checkpoint and the girls posed by the graffitied wall (unfortunately the camera shook).

We sprinted off (well sort of) down the windswept ridge with the Interislander chugging out of the harbour. It wasn't far back to the finish, the greasy groper and fish n chips on the beach.