I Stand Corrected

Did I mention that I've never mountain biked in the actual woods before?

What a cocky American mistake to think that I could learn to mountain bike on the Queen Charlotte Track, which -- now that I've made it out alive (barely) and taken the time to read the literature -- turns out to be "difficult for even the most experienced rider." This was one of those ego-downsizes when my mouth wrote a check my ass couldn't ca$h.

The first 15 minutes are straight up. I mean, seriously. So straight up that Paula Abdul was there. No big deal, just a walking start til I got to the top of the track where it would level out, right? Level, never. Scary narrow trail with a precipice that afforded fantastic views and the sweet smell of future dismemberment? The whole fucking way. I'm sure there was some dirt under the tree roots and giant rocks, but I couldn't really make it out as I went screaming "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" with my breaks squealing through every drop and curve. In the first 3 minutes, I received a text from Death that said: "B thar in 5, <3s!" (Kidding, I don't have a phone -- but if I did, this definitely would have occurred.)

Did I mention that even sledding scares me? Never skiied, snowboarded, or successfully rollerskated (as Erin Waas can attest, the last time I tried, an 8-year-old girl spent 15 minutes trying to teach me, holding my hand, and finally gave up). I pass the time at theme parks playing whac-a-mole and trying to gather the nerve to try the teacups.

And did I mention that I no longer have health insurance?

The views were insanely beautiful. I took them in briefly when I stopped every 30 seconds to fix my wedgie (take note: boyshorts are not suited for mountain biking), think about turning back, and notice that if I didn't start riding again the bugs would eat me (because what kind of city girl packs bug spray?)

My ego reminded me that only losers turn around, and I somehow made it to the Irish backpackers in 3.5 hours, just under the time it took the walkers who left 5 minutes before I did. Granted, they were serious trampers from Alaska, and had last been in NZ for Iron Man. But still. There were no wheels attached to their feet.

When I arrived, they said they'd been ready to send out a search party. (Indeed, I only passed 2 couples during my entire ride, that and some sheep.) Awesome. It would have been nice to have had some ice when I impaled my foot with my handlebars (I didn't actually wipe out, but managed it during one of my hundreds of dismounts sparked by a scary-looking twig). No big, just a nasty bruise in that exact spot where I fractured my foot a few summers back.

Nature is rife with cheesy analogies. Caring for blueberry bushes has all sorts of 'em, my favorite being that after weeding, you take a handful of weeds and wrap them around the base of the tree -- the process of their rotting gives nutrients to the tree (yknow, mistakes being part of you and making you better). Mountain biking reminded me that there's always something scary just ahead that can give you a reason to postpone getting back on your proverbial bike towards zoomtown.

I had no idea that this sport was so much mindgame. When I told myself "I can do this, I'm doing this right now," I was ok (but still always about to die). I'm impressed by the confidence and special recklessness that it takes to be a mountain biker.

I am not a mountain biker, not yet anyway. I am the person who wakes up the day after a scare and says, "Please call me a boat to the nearest beach, thank you." The Iron Couple happened to have bus tickets to Nelson that they weren't using, so I happily took the sign and got on the first boat back to Picton ("where you started, loser," whispered my ego from underneath the pillow where I'd smothered it). The ride back through the Marlborough Sounds was awesome. It was just me and the boat captain (one of those hottie adventure guides, natch). We saw dolphins, penguins, and a crazy-ass mass of jellyfish (many thousands) that turned the water purple.

Back at the ferry office, I was informed that a new safety system for single travelers had been implemented because of me (between the woman who sold me the ticket and the woman at the lodge, there were some very worried moms... speaking of which, if my mom is reading this -- sorry!) "I didn't want to scare you," said the ticketmistress, "but a woman was airlifted out of the track last week with a broken back, and I was really worried about you. From now on you must listen to the locals when we give you advice. Us kiwis tell it like it is." Yes, ma'am.

In defense of my decision (but not of my biking skills), I was also told that a family with an 11-year old had just biked the track. Go figure.

I've spent the last 2 days where I belong, on the beach (Tahunanui, just outside of Nelson centre). That last picture shows the beautiful view of Abel Tasman from here, but not the summer colors.

I have spoken much of my favorite podcast, City Soul Radioshow. Click that link (or go to CitySoul.org if you're not into itunes) and download all the archives because I'm not going to stop referencing it, and want to bring it into everyone's life. As Emily T can attest, it's worth converting.

The bus ride from Picton to Nelson was breathtaking. I don't have pictures to tell you what it looked like, because all of my facilities were busy absorbing the moment. I can, however, tell you, that it looked like the Oct 2nd City Soul podcast sounds at 1:40:48. Today I sat on a bench along a trail in Nelson and looked at the farmland and hills to my side, and the ocean out ahead. It looked something like the May 8th City Soul podcast at 36:24. Laying on Tahunanui Beach for hours in the bright sun yesterday afternoon was like most of the May 29 edition, especially the disco towards the end.

I'm convinced that my summer project at the Blueberry Farm was here all this time waiting for me, and I couldn't be more excited about it. If not for that, if I could chose to settle in any of the few towns I've seen so far, it would be sunny Nelson over cloudy Wellington. Nelson has a nice mix of artsy and surfer vibe. And the food!

Breakfast was a honey-poachd sesame bagel sandwich with salmon/lemon/dill spread followed by a crazy-amazing salted caramel (liquid center, for the choc snobs in the house, but amazing texture from the sugared ganache covering). Then I found the real chocolate shop. Holy fuck. Brendan Gannon, I wish you were here. I can't even explain. I've got an award-winning raspberry chocolate brownie (to call it a brownie just doesn't do it justice) waiting in my room at this backpackers (which is, of course, by the sea and only $28NZ a night for my own room -- it seems they actually want you to be able to afford traveling in this country). On my ride home I stopped at Guyton's seafood and sampled 4 kinds of smoked mussels (chili, garlic, BBQ, and straight up) and the best lemon pepper smoked salmon I've ever had in my life (this against serious competition from Seattle's Pike Place Market, and I do not utter such a comparison lightly). No flattened out slab here -- a big, thick hunk of salmon that was thisclose to sashimi.

What to do now but lay on the beach til sunset digesting. Tomorrow I'm off to WWOOF at the house of Mark and Lisa, who live on an island (population: 20) an hour's bikeride from here, in Richmond, on the way towards Abel Tas. (The B&B/art studio placement may still be in my future, but when an estuary calls, I answer.) Lisa is American and is gonna whip up Turkey Day dinner (we're a day ahead here, so T-Day is tomorrow). They've got two boys, 3 and 4 & 1/2, so I'll probably spend a good deal of my time running around with them, and also helping with some farm projects (wetland restoration, farm renovation, and developing their organic farm/orchard on their other property in Motueka). I've got my own sleep-out and Mark tells me it's a 20-min bike ride to the beach.

I spent a good 5 minutes last night at a gas station staring at all the candy bars I have yet to try. I'm happy to report I'm back to my old self, aghast at the "flavourings" and "colourings." I took my tiramisu to the beach and together we watched the sunset. It took some time to summon the courage, but just before dark I asked the Tasman what it's all about. She told me I would receive a reply in 3 to 5 business days.