The Pretty

Yes I'm back in the land of blog. I had a great time being wined and dined down south, while acting as chauffeur/tour guide/sometime assistant.

This is a shot from somewhere, taken some time ago, in some place I can't recall, and is here purely cos I like it. It's pretty.

Special Bonus Offer:
Sharyn, and others(!), rudely took the opportunity afforded by my trip to embarrass some poor bugger a lot more. It's rude and offensive. Oh, and funny.

The Beach

There I was cruising up to Dunedin from Taieri Mouth, and it wasn't the most beautiful of days - I'd had rain and drizzle off and on for much of it - but for some reason cruising along the coast coming into Brighton I got this urge to jump out and go for a swim. It is a very rare urge, very rare indeed.

So I did. Fortunately - as it gave me something to do other than pretend to swim and/or drown - I happened to have a camera with me which I could use in the water.

So I did. Here are the results - only slightly editted, cos I like them and can't be bothered selecting a few cos it's 1am and I should be in bed.

It was a great way to spend twenty minutes on a grey afternoon. And the water wasn't too bad either.

The Ride

Having gotten over my disappointment with not taking my bike with me on my wee roadtrip (something I was seriously considering up until a couple of days before leaving) and discovering just how much potential fun could have been had on a bike in South Canterbury/North Otago, I’ve been out riding the last couple of days.

Both days I decided to forego any logic and worry about unfit cycling legs. So I headed to the Brooklyn Wind Turbine (thanks Meridian), then carried on almost to the Airways Corp radar. For those of you who know Wellington (and know where I live), you’ll realise that it’s uphill all the way – a good solid hour and a bit of good solid uphill.

Both days around 5.30pm the fog rolled in from the south covering the peaks I was riding to. Thursday, having left about 5.00pm, the turbine was shrouded by the time I got there. Yesterday, having left earlier, I was well on my way to the radar when the fog came in.

So on Thursday, bearing in mind all the fog, I decided to head back via the tip track. I’d only done this track once or twice before, years ago, and found it full of ruts which made hooning downhill not much fun. But this time it was like someone had attacked it with a grader. There were still rocks and ruts to negotiate, but it was far more pleasant riding.

Yesterday, however, I did what I was planning to do on Thursday. Cycle down to Red Rocks. I’ve done that track dozens of times before, though not for a while (cos I didn’t have a ride-able bike for quite a while). What struck me was just how strange it is going along a track you know well, with views all around you know well, but not being able to see more than about 50metres in any direction. It was a really rather cool experience.

And then you get near the coastal ridge and pop out under the fog (though at one point earlier I popped out above the fog), and you see a stunning view. One that screamed out to be photographed. But I was sans camera; carrying only water, wallet, mobile, lights, and keys. Sitting about 250metres above the water looking out southeast and all you see is water and fog/cloud. No horizon. Absolutely beautiful.

A bit like this photo I took a few days ago at Port Underwood, near Picton, only much more impressive, with less defined sea/horizon/clouds, and beautiful and stunning. And without the ghastly vignette top right.