Suburban Lush

Glencoe

You may have noticed over there on the left that I've been reading "Glencoe" by John Prebble. This was not just for fun - it was research. You see, I had a trip to Glencoe planned, and being the immense nerd that I am I was finding out about the famous massacre at Glencoe before visiting the place itself.

This was yet another hiking weekend - the Scottish Highlands are a beautiful place to walk, full of gorgeous valleys and high hills. And the leader of the weekend had chosen Glencoe, the most famous of the Highland valleys. Not only stunning gorgeous but with an interesting (and bloody) history.

The story of the massacre is one of politics and betrayal and well worth reading but instead of telling you about it I am simply going to rabbit on about the gorgeous hiking we did, with gorgeous sunny (very un-Scottish) weather and pints at the pub.

We started off early on Friday morning, catching the ferry from Larne to Troon and driving up to Arrochar. We stopped there for our first walk - up Ben Arthur, also known as The Cobbler. The walk starts with steep switchbacks, a shock to the legs after a morning of travelling. The path eventually flattens out somewhat, giving you a chance to catch your breath and enjoy the view back down Loch Long and up towards the three summits of The Cobbler. The final ascent is steep and long, and we had amazing views from the summit. Some were even brave enough to tackle the famous Eye and reach the true summit.

Then it was back down to the cars for the final leg of the journey to our hostel Kinlochlevin. 

We arrived for a quick unpack and shower before heading out for a pint. Most had dinner at the hostel, but a few of us headed to the local Tailrace inn for our meal. A delicious steak and ale pie and a pint of local beer hit the spot before meeting up with the others for a few pints at the hostel bar. 

The plan for Saturday was to climb Bidean Nam Bian, the highest mountain in Argyll and Glencoe at 3773ft. This was a hard walk, but immensely rewarding. Steep uphill climbs, almost vertical scree slopes, over 9 hours long, completely and utterly breathtaking views, and an incredible sense of satisfaction. Again starting with immediate uphill, the track eventually flattened out in The Lost Valley - unseen from below, this was the place where the clansmen of Glencoe hid rustled cattle from their rightful owners. After the respite of The Lost Valley, it was a steep climb and scramble to the top. No point rushing - take plenty of time to turn around and enjoy the views spreading out below as you ascend. The day was hot and we took our lunch at the saddle before tackling the final climb along a ridge to the summit of Bidean Nam Bian. Then down and around, scrambling desperately down an almost vertical scree slope, some on their feet and some on their bottoms before rejoining the well-defined path. Constant descent, most of it excruciatingly steep, reminded us how far we'd climbed.

We didn't get back to the hostel until quite late. Once showered we ordered dinner. I couldn't resist - haggis, neeps and tatties with whisky cream sauce. Surprisingly delicious!

Then, after a few pints, we headed to a pub to check out a local band and have a few more drinks.

We'd booked the ferry back to Belfast for late on Sunday, which meant we had all day to amuse ourselves. Rather than go for another walk we decided on a leisurely day out: visiting the Scottish National Trust information centre at Glencoe where they have an excellent exhibition on the history of the area, and popping in to little towns to check out the local sights.

It was a fantastic weekend, and I'm already itching to return.

Walking in the Lake District

I was woken by my alarm at a horrendous time on the morning of the Royal wedding. Not for wedding festivities, but to be picked up by a friend for the 6 1/2 hour journey to the Lake District. A group of us from the walking club were going, and we were due to meet on the ferry at 6am - far to early for me. I'd been nervous about the crossing, but fortunately it was calm and we made it from Belfast to Stranraerwithout incident.

Even Dianne and I survived and didn't have to make use of our gifts:

 

 

Then it was the long car journey from Stranraer to Keswick. There were 29 of us going, and approximately 4 people per car. We had CB radios - meet team "rubber duckie"

 

 

Team Rubber Duckie had prepared well

  
- magazines, chips, chocolate, candy, coke - and before too long we were all in sugar induced high spirits.

We arrived in Keswick mid afternoon and, with some difficulty, found our hostel.

We unpacked, made the beds, and then made our plans for the afternoon. Some of the group were keen to hike that afternoon, but being ladies of leisure (and knowing there'd be plenty more hiking that weekend) a few of us headed into Keswick itself for a look around. A lovely little town, filled with hiking shops (in other words, perfect for us!) Keswick was having a street party to celebrate the wedding. We joined in by having a Pimms before heading to the nearest cafe for tea and scones. Delicious!

Dinner that evening was at a pub in Keswick (smoked fish cakes with wedges for me!) after a couple of pints in the sunshine. Then back to the hostel and into bed for an early night.

We were up bright and early on Saturday morning, pleased to discover that not only was the sun shining, but that the hostel was going to provide us with a full cooked breakfast. We gorged ourselves, sorted out lunch, packed up our things and headed out to climb the highest mountain in England: Scafell Pike. The walk up Scafell pike is a long and constant ascent, but the path is well marked so it was possible for us to walk at our own pace. A few girls and I (dubbed C-team) went with the slow-and-steady method, pacing ourselves, taking many 30 second mini breaks, but not stopping for any real lenth of time. On and on we walked, up hill and over boulders. The first glimpse of the summit spurned us on and, after the final scramble, we reached the summit. The wind was blowing hard and we took a quick picture on the very top and then stopped to look around for the others in our group. Suddenly it dawned on us: we were the first to the top! Delighted, we celebrated by finding a sheltered spot and having some much deserved lunch while we waited for the rest of our group.

It was rather cold up at the summit so before too long we started back down, a few of us going ahead. We began by going back the way we came for a bit, and then turned off for a different (and longer) route which took us past some gorgeous lakes before rejoining the original path not far from thecarpark. As we were the first ones to start back we were also the first ones to arrive at the car and, inevitably, the first ones to arrive at the pub. We sat on the grass outside, ordered drinks (pints of cider with a dash of blackcurrant syrup - delicious!), waited for the others and enjoyed the sunshine. Before long we were all there, and enjoying a few hard-earned drinks. Then it was back to the hostel for dinner (local sausages and mashed potatoes - yummy!). Not long after eating we were back at the pub, where we stayed until closing time.

 
Sunday morning started off slowly as many of the group nursed hangovers. A fried breakfast put most of us right again, and we were off for yet another walk: Helvellyn. This is one of the most popular routes in the Lakes. We drove from the hostel to the village of Glenridding where we parked our cars. And then it was up, up, up. We stopped for elevenses at around 1:30, before carrying on along Striding Edge to the summit. Striding Edge is a high and sharp ridge path, not for the faint-hearted, but loads of fun. The wind at the summit was gale-force, but we stopped for a quick lunch anyway before the scramble down and along Swirral Edge. 

Sunday night was quiet, with dinner at the pub (whole locally caught trout with chips) and a couple of pints before an early bedtime. And then it was Monday. We spent the morning in Keswick before starting the long journey home.

It was a fantastic weekend: great weather, great walks, great friends, great craic.

 

 

Boa Island and Lusty Beg

The thing about being part of a hiking group is that there are loads of group events, both official and unofficial. And inevitably there are some scandals and some romances. A group of us were away last weekend to celebrate one of the romances: the marriage of Jim and Wendy.

They chose to get married on lovely Lusty Beg island in County Fermanagh. Seeing as it is a good couple hours away from Belfast, a group of us hired a house on Boa Island for the weekend, and headed down there on the Friday night after work. A few friends had gotten there before us and had already fired up the BBQ so we got straight into the food and beers. It was an entertaining evening to say the least, best illustrated with photos:

Yes, she is sitting on a lawnmower.

And yes, that is two pool cue and a BBQ lid.

I think we invented a new game . . .

Yeah, I don't know what is happening here either. And yes, that is a man in a bathrobe and slippers.

Despite the obvious excessive alcohol, the next day a few of us managed a short walk before we had to start getting ready for the wedding. I'd forgotten how pretty Northern Ireland can be:

Back at the house we prettied up, before heading to the evening 'do of the wedding. It was a gorgeous occasion, and Jim and Wendy were as happy as can be. We danced the night away:

John, Wendy & I

Jim & Wendy's first dance

Pretty ruffles!

Smoochies.

It was a fantastic weekend, and fun was had by all.

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

It has been so long since my last update that I can't even remember when it was (yes, I could check the archives, but I'm lazy) and I'm sorry about that - I've missed you! But now it is 2011, and in just a few weeks I leave the sunny shores of New Zealand for the rainy shores of Northern Ireland. I'm looking forward to it.

The last few weeks have been family-filled, with 9 days spent in Brisbane with my parents and my sister Wombat's family. The day before I arrived, and just prior to Christmas, they welcomed a little girl into the world, the lovely, darling Nipper. The first new-born baby I have ever seen, and certainly the first baby I have ever held. I was nervous the first few times (so small!! so delicate!!!) but soon got comfortable enough to take her off Wombat's hands at every opportunity.

The 7 of us (Wombat, her husband Skippy, Munchkin, Nipper, my parents and I) celebrated Christmas, Aussie style. No, we didn't head to the beach (the weather wasn't great) but we had a lovely Christmas tree

and the most amazing Christmas dinner (courtesy of Skippy) while sitting by the pool, diving in whenever we got too hot.

It was divine.

Our days in Brisbane were spent relaxing with family, drinking beer, wine and champagne, and generally hanging out. One afternoon, leaving the kids with their grandparents, Wombat, Skippy and I headed out to see the latest Harry Potter film. When it wasn't raining there were walks on the beach, and Skippy even took my Dad, Munchkin and I out on the boat for a bit of water-skiing early one morning. 

Then it was back to New Zealand for New Years. I had no real plans for New Years Eve, but the afternoon was sunny and a couple of my friends were keen to join me pool-side at my parents place. We sat by the pool, swam and drank champagne.

We had dinner and martinis.

And we rang in the new year, in pool, with a glass of bubbles in hand.

I hope you all had as wonderful a Christmas and New Years as I did, and thanks for sticking around for the few and far between posts of 2010. Here's to more active blogging in 2011!

xoxoxoxoxo SL

Windy Wellington

I flew to Wellington on the weekend to catch up with Percy and her husband, and we had an action-packed weekend (sort of) which included:

• Cocktail party
• Horseriding
• Watching Castle and napping
• Shopping
• Baking
• Yum cha

It was loads of fun. I'd tell you more, but it was probably the last time I'll see Percy until she comes to visit me overseas, and it makes me too sad to think about it.

Sail Away

Having discovered that Mom's vertigo medication is excellent for curing seasickness, Dad managed to convince me to stay on the boat overnight last weekend. My friend Andrew was keen to try his hand at sailing so, the morning after our Thanksgiving dinner, the three of us headed to the marina and out onto the water. It was the first overnight sail of the season, so there was plenty of preparation to do beforehand: restocking staple foods, ensuring a sufficient booze supply, bringing all the soft-furnishings which had been taken off the boat for the winter, etc. We finally set sail at 2 in the afternoon, and had a quick lunch on the go.

There was little wind to start off, but we soon had a steady breeze. Our course set for the Waiheke channel, we relaxed with a beer and enjoyed the sunshine, anchoring for the evening at Man o' War Bay on Waiheke Island. Seeing that lots of other boats had fishing lines set, and not wanting to be left out, I rather carelessly suggested that we should put a line out too. Much to my surprise Dad jumped at the suggestion and started giving instructions with some glee. It was only when I pulled out the bait while being ordered to keep it as far away from Dad as possible that I realised why. The bait had been sitting on the boat since god knows when. My Dad delighted in instructing me to cut off a piece and affix it to the fish hooks. Words cannot describe the smell. But I was brave (and thankful for my mouth breathing tendencies) and cut the bait, baited the hooks, and threw the line over the side. I felt no nibbles but eventually the bait disappeared and I repeated the process with the exact same result. Dad promised that the way to ensure success was to drink a gin and tonic while fishing so, with a freshly prepared G&T in hand, Andrew gave fishing a go. He caught a fish his first try (no fair!!) but it was a small one, and we threw it back. He re-baited the hook and we waited, but no more fish were to be had.

We decided we'd had enough of fishing (not to mention dealing with the bait) so Dad went below to cook dinner while Andrew and I scrubbed (and scrubbed, and scrubbed) our hands. Before long we were sitting on deck with glasses of wine, enjoying a Thai green curry. The evening ended with flambeed bananas, stargazing and relaxed conversation.

The next morning started out slowly, with banana pancakes for breakfast. We rowed ashore for a swim and a walk along the beach, and were delighted to discover a little wine shop offering free tastings. We partook (of course) and then headed back to Beulah, Dad swimming, and Andrew rowing while I crewed the rowboat. Then a spot of lunch before hauling up anchor, but we were unfortunately becalmed and forced to resort to motoring. The trip back to the marina was uneventful, except for a little detour around "bung" (my type of art), and once safely ashore we grabbed a Coke and headed back home, very relaxed after a lovely weekend away.

Tongariro National Park - Part 2

Last night left our two intrepid trampers with a bottle of wine, a plan and an early night. We'd kept our  plans for the day loose and free: we knew which hike we wanted to do but were keeping our options open as to whether we'd stay another night or not.

The morning dawned colder and wetter than the day before, and we discussed a plan of action over another hearty breakfast. We decided to pack up our room, and head out to the Department of Conservation information centre in National Park to check out the forecast before our walk. The backpackers was quiet (only 5 people staying the night before) and we figured we'd have no problem getting a room after our hike if we decided to stay. So we bundled everything in the car and headed out. The news at the information centre was dire. Periods of rain turning to showers (you can imagine long the two of us spend discussing the difference between "periods of rain" and "showers") and worse the next day. Our decision was made: we'd do our hike today as planned, and head home afterwards.

We'd decided on a walk to upper and lower Tama lakes. Situated directly between Ngaruruhoe and Ruapehu, the terrain was somewhat less taxing than the previous day's walk had been, and our legs appreciated it. We headed up through a bush-covered valley to Taranaki Falls (impressive!) and through the rolling tussocked landscape before reaching lower Tama lake. From there, we walked sharply up-hill over scree, to spectacular views of upper Tama lake. We'd had a little rain to start, and showers on and off, but a fairly constant wind at our backs. The clouds cleared slightly and from our (very cold) vantage point, we were rewarded with views of both Ngaruruhoe and Ruapehu. We have an odd rule that lunch must be had more than half-way through the walk, and our viewpoint had no shelter from the wind, so we headed back towards lower Tama lake. There we found a sheltered spot and had our lunch. The sun even came out.

We'd been somewhat anxious about the walk back because the wind had been behind us on the way there. And this wasn't exactly a light breeze. But somehow we timed things perfectly, and the wind was behind us again. The sun was shining, and we got some spectacular views, but as expected we also got more rain.

We got back to the car very pleased with ourselves, and headed to a cafe for a (less than $5) cappuccino. Then we were on the road for home, stopping only to pick up some ingredients for dinner. It was after 8 when we pulled into the driveway, and by the time we'd unpacked the car and put everything away it was 9. Dad shook up a martini (we totally deserved one) while I prepped the veg for a stir-fry. By the time we'd finished our martinis and sat down for dinner it was 10, and we'd conveniently forgotten how lethal the combination of exercise and booze can be, especially on an empty stomach. Throwing caution to the wind we opened (and drank) a bottle of wine with dinner.

Eventually, having left sobriety behind, we sat up late discussing a mountain we'd seen (but couldn't find on the map) and no doubt solving the problems of the world. Too bad I can't really remember. Finally crawled into bed and slept as only one can in their childhood bed. It was a fantastic weekend.

(pictures from here)

Tongariro National Park - Part 1

If you are going to make a list of things you'd like to do during the year, I suggest you do some research first. I made my 31 before 31 list on a whim, sitting on my couch in the comfort of my own home. Number 7 on the list was to climb the 3 biggest peaks of NZ's North Island; Ruapehu, Ngaruruhoe, and Tongariro. On paper this sounded like a great idea, and really, it was. It just wasn't practical.

The weather has warmed up considerably in the last month, and so I started investigating what would be involved in climbing these mountains. I bought a couple of maps, recruited my Dad for a weekend away, and headed into a local hiking gear shop to ask questions. Firstly, is it even possible to climb Ruapehu. "Oh yes" I was told "are you very experienced?" I told them that we were, and the next question was "and do you have your own crampons and ice axes, or are you looking to buy some?". Crampons?? Ice axes??? Hah! Well, it was clear that Ruapehu was off the list. Still, Dad and I decided to head down to Tongariro National Park for a weekend of hiking anyway.

We left home on Friday night, arriving at the backpackers at around 11pm. We had originally looked into doing the Tongariro crossing, and the backpackers offered drop-off and pick-up services (you need a car to get to the start and to collect you at the end). But (there's always a 'but', isn't there?) the van for the drop-off left at 7:45am. Now we may be many things, but early risers isn't one of them. Plus you had to make sure you finished the walk in time to catch the bus at the end, and both my Dad and I hate walking to a schedule - it just adds extra stress. So we decided on a plan. We would park at one end of the crossing, and walk up from there. At the half way point we would turn around and come back. And then, if we wanted to, we could always do the other half the next day (spoiler alert: we didn't).

Saturday we awoke to a cold and wet morning. Undaunted, we cooked a hearty breakfast (baked beans on toast, fried eggs, and yogurt), geared up and headed out. We'd decided to start at the Mangatepopo hut and head up to the red crater. This meant we would have the options of doing a side trip up either Tongariro or Ngaruahoe. The track is steep, but not unrelentingly so. And while the weather wasn't great, with both wind and rain, it didn't rain the whole time. We got fairly wet starting off, but managed to dry off again before reaching the top. We'd been discussing our options for summit trips. Ngaruruhoe is a hard summit to climb, all scree and unrelenting steepness, and because of the scree it is a matter of two steps forward and one step back. We decided to skip it, particularly considering the weather conditions. There is no marked route  to the top, and you need to be able to see the summit to navigate. The cloud was thick and low and there was no way we could see the summit. Tongariro is another matter. At 1967 meters is isn't as high as Ngaruruhoe, but the path is well-defined. So we by-passed the Ngaruruhoe summit track and carried on towards the red crater. Just before reaching the crater is the turn-off for the Tongariro summit, and we took it, walking along the thin ridge to the summit, where the cloud was so dense we got no views at all. Oh well! We turned around, stopped in the shelter of a rock for a quick lunch (thank God for the thermos of soup!), and returned to the main path. There we carried on a little further to reach the red crater. The cloud had lifted on this side of the mountains and we got a fantastic view. I'd usually post pictures here, but I didn't take my camera up with me. So here's one from google images instead:

Ok, so it didn't look exactly like that (we couldn't see Ngaruruhoe in the background) but it was still pretty cool (and just as Georgia O'Keefe-esque). The ground is red, and steaming in places, and there are no signs of life. In fact, the scenery (what we saw of it) for the whole walk was amazing. Like being on another planet. I loved that when I sat down to enjoy the view the ground was warm. It gave everything a sense of danger, like it could just explode under your feet (which I guess it could).

We headed back down and managed to get drenched with rain again, but we'd mostly dried off by the time we made it back to the car. We had a couple squares of chocolate each to keep up our strength, and drove over to the chateau to take a look. The chateau is fancy, and we thought we might have a coffee there, or maybe even dinner. We wandered in, wearing our rain and mud-splattered hiking gear, and ran smack bang into the middle of a wedding reception. We quickly ducked around the side, and headed towards the cafe to see about coffee. Dad realised he'd left his wallet in the car, and rather than going back out into the rain we counted the change in his pockets. So imagine us, slightly startled after running into the wedding, looking like we hadn't showered or combed our hair for months, shivering slightly from the cold, holding a handful of small change and walking into a fancy cafe. I asked the server how much a cappuccino would be and we nearly died when she said $5 - so expensive! So we clutched our change, turned around and walked back out.

We decided instead to return to the backpackers, shower and wash, and then find somewhere for dinner. It turned out to be an excellent plan, and we ended up having burgers and chips, washed down with a couple of beers, at a restaurant in National Park. The restaurant was clearly unexpectedly busy, and the server looked harassed. We were highly amused to find that they'd run out of several types of beer. Fortunately they still had some, so we weren't left high and dry.

Full to the brim we returned to the backpackers and sat with our map and a bottle of wine, making plans for the next day, before turning in for an early night.

Putting In The Hard Yards

We're reaching the end of the semester, and I spend a lot of my time frantically researching and writing. Not much time for activities which make for interesting blog fodder, sorry. 

I've got three things on the go at the moment:

1) An ethnographic study of a tramping club in New Zealand (jokingly referred to by me as Walking Not Talking);

2) An essay of current political and theoretical debates about "multiculturalism", citizenship, and collective rights and how they apply to the current situation with the Roma in Europe; and

3) A critical examination of microfinance as a form of poverty reduction, reviewing the literature and commenting on the socio-cultural, organizational and macro- and micro- economic factors which affect the outcomes of these programmes.

I enjoy it, but it is hard work. 

Happily I just got a couple of results back from previous assignments and it reassures me that I haven't yet killed all my braincells and I am capable of good marks.

Oh, and of course I am allowing my self a little more time for braincell killing:

Unfortunately the weather is getting nicer, too. Now I know this would seem like a good thing, and in some respects it is, but it means that my usual hiking buddy is off sailing instead. I'll have to recruit somebody else I guess.

So yes, I've been working, studying and, occasionally, drinking. Boring, right?!

Dreams

Oh how I wish I was still waking up to this:

 

And drinking some of these:

 

While enjoying this view:

Anyone want to send me on another tropical holiday? Please??