Kat & Marty

Vast is the one word I can think of that sums up Alaska. Flying in over literally hundreds of mountains with glaciers pouring down into the cold looking oceans, I couldn't help feeling a little trepidous about the days ahead where we would be backpacking into the Alaskan back country with no trail, only a topo (topographical) map and compass to find our way with.

Anchorage at midnight was hot and sunny. We caught a free shuttle to our overpriced Days Inn motel room where we listened to people helping themselves from the ice machine by our door all night long. In the morning after showers Marty booked us a room in a hostel (Anchorage Guesthouse) run by a bit of a character named Andy. Andy had travelled in New Zealand and released a CD called Queenstown.

After booking our room we went to a local supermarket and stocked up on hiking food for our trip into Denali National Park. It took all morning to shop and sort out our packs and get to the hostel. We hired bikes there and rode for 3 hours along a coastal trail out of town. It was beautiful biking through sunlit woods with occasional glimpses of the mudflats and ocean below. The mudflats are notorious for sucking people knee to waist deep then holding them tight to drown in the tides. The solution has been for a rescue helicopter to fly in, drop a platform over your head and use an aircompressor to break the suction and get you out. Fortunately Marty and didn't have to experience this one in person.

On returning our bikes we found out the woods were packed full of moose. I was disappointed not to have seen any. This disappointment was soon alleviated by a restaurant bar name Humpys we were directed to for dinner. We ordered halibut (a huge flounder type fish) and chips. They were the best fish and chips I have ever had in my life!

The following morning we were up early to catch a 6:45 bus up to Denali. Our driver was friendly and kept up a flow of information on the surrounding countryside despite low cloud and no views. He mentioned it was a shame he couldn't point out the Indian snow to us. Everyone looked around in puzzlement until someone finally asked him - "and Indian snow would be...?" The answer: Apache here and Apache there. I'm sure your groan is as big as ours was. The only other point of note on that ride was the glimpse of a moose standing on the edge of a clearing in the distance.

On reaching Denali at midday we went straight to the WAC (Wilderness Access Center) to book our back country permits which are given out on a first in first served basis. The park is split into sections and only a certain loading is allowed on any given section per night. Someone was in the first section we wanted to enter so we had to reverse our walk. In hindsight I am glad we did it the backwards way as I feel it would have been a lot harder the right way. We were given bear proof containers to store all our food and anything scented including all hygiene products like toothpaste. They were huge black plastic barrels that lock down on one end and weigh a ton! The theory is to store the food in these barrels at least 100m from our tent, then actually cook our food 100m in a different direction again, so bears never associate the barrels with food or with tents, or food with tents. After repacking all our food and rearranging our packs to fit the barrels in, we sat around eating fatty, high-energy junk food until a bus came to drop us in to the start of our hike at Eilson.

The bus ride in was made magical partly by views of Canadian wildlife and partly by the sheer size of the land features we were looking at. The first animal we saw was an Arctic Snowshoe Hare, next, slightly more interesting a caribou with big antlers. As the first hikers were dropped off, the bus went a little quiet and the atmosphere seemed to thicken as a bear sighting was reported over the bus radio. The bear was at the stop before ours, Stoney River, the stop our bus seat neighbours were being dropped at. I was so glad it wasn't at our stop and though it seems ridiculous now, I started having visions of prowling bears waiting at the bus door while we were kicked off at Eilson. The scenery was overwhelmingly intense. It was beautiful but more in a spritual, ethereal way than anything I have ever seen before. Rather than the imposing heights of the Himalayas, it was vast rolling plateaus leading into huge U shaped glacial valleys fed by deeper V shaped river formed valleys. Rather than high, the mountains just looked big. It was SCENERY. All I could do was hold onto Marty's arm and breath deeply and comment 'this is amazing'.  

More and more hikers got dropped off and we were drawing closer to Eilson when we saw a bear with two cubs grazing on the short grasses and roots that grow on the Arctic Tundra, then coming over a rise as we drove on, was another mother bear with slightly older cubs. Bears are huge! They are so much bigger and more intimidating than I had ever imagined. If they don't see you or aren't interested in you there aren't any problems, however, they are unpredictable and once cubs are involved the mothers won't think twice about going for you. We had rehearsed what to do in case of a confrontation, but I was praying we wouldn't have one. For that moment I was very glad to have the protection of the bus. We drove past the Toklat River stop where we would walk out to then went on past an exclusion zone. This is a designated area that is closed due to wildlife activity like nesting. This exclusion zone was due to wolf cubs being born recently. To my great delight the entire family - two adults and about 3 or 4 cubs were out playing in a clearing clearly visible from our bus windows on the road. The driver was impressed we got a viewing - it sounded like a rare event.

Finally just after driving into a rain cloud at 8pm, it was time to get off. A moment after the bus drove off I realised I had left our gaiters on the bus. I was devastated, particularly as in the first few minutes we were plunging through waist high scrub calling out as loud as we could for any hiding bears to run away. The soaking rain meant we were soon wet through, but walking kept us warm. I was extremely thankful for the long hours of daylight as it was 10:30pm before we found a possible campsite out of view of the road as the park rules decreed. Our position was behind a small rise on a hilltop terrace which possibly wasn't out of view from the road at all, but at that point we were too wet and tired to care. It was on a bit of a slope but we didn't think that would matter too much. We walked our food barrels back the requisite 100m and opened a pasta meal to cook up. Cooking away from your tent in warm weather is well and good but in the rain is not so fun. In future perhaps an extra tarp would be in order to set up a shelter. Standing still meant we were getting colder and by the time the pasta was half cooked I was shivering uncontrollably so we decided to eat it how it was and get the meal over with. It was revolting! Each mouthful nearly had me dry retching it was so bad and the more rain fell into it the worse it tasted. We were in a bit of a predicament as we had no room left in the bear proof containers to store it, we couldn't throw it on the ground or bury it as it is important bears don't gain access to (or a taste for) human food. Marty was a champion. He told me to go and get into bed and he would finish it off. Standing there in the pouring rain, with every mouthful he told himself, "This will be funny in a week, in a week I will be laughing at this." He took one for the team.

Meanwhile I had my new down jacket on and crawled into our new sleeping bags in our new tent and discovered that the slope was a bit more of a problem than first thought. Due to the slippery fabric of our sleeping bags, they slid down the bed mats. Once Marty joined me the problem grew worse, and instead of sleeping like we were standing up, we slept in a collapsed huddle at the bottom of the tent.

In the morning it was still raining. Marty and I pretended to be asleep in the hope it would stop soon, but eventually we could ignore it no longer and forced ourselves into wet clothes and out into the elements. This time it was Marty who got too cold. After breaking camp we considered throwing in the towel and taking a bus back out, but it seemed a bit of a cop out so we decided to give it half an hour and if things hadn't improved we would reconsider again.

We had carefully chosen which river valley to walk up the night before, matching it to our topo map. The only thing that didn't quite match up was what appeared to be a small lake or pond next to the river. Since the map was dated 1952 we figured the changing course of the river must have swallowed it. We walked up our river full of confidence as we got warmer and the rain lightened. The valley grew steeper and steeper until the river ahead disappeared up into seemingly impassable rocks. The route we were taking was graded as difficult, but I was beginning to think this was taking things a bit far as we had to climb up an extremely steep scree bluff/slope to gain a ridge to carry us past the rocks. We got to the top of the ridge and all became clear. The correct valley was laid out in all it's glory, small lake intact, on a much larger scale than anything we had imagined. We dropped down and found the going a lot easier with good views over the tundra and no bears in sight. When we got to a fork in the river, we turned up the Sunset River valley with much more confidence, until this river valley too began to grow steep and wild. I took my pack off and climbed a nearby ridge for a more aerial view and discovered a much more likely valley one over. On looking at the map it was clear, we had once again been sucked up a smaller river valley that fed the one we were to follow.

After a much nicer lunch than dinner the night before, of walnut and raison porridge (or oatmeal as it is called here), we finally ascended the correct valley. We had a choice of walking over bluffs or staying on the valley floor and facing multiple river crossings. Whoever would have thought multiple river crossings meant about 25 in total! The water was glacially fed and gained strength with snow melt as the day progressed. As we were now into the mid afternoon teh river was in full fury. By the 11th river crossing my feet were frozen and bruised by the river stones my gaiters would have protected me from. There was nothing for it but to sit down and have a good cry. We emptied our boots and continued on, sure at least we were in the right place as snowy mountains loomed ahead. At one point Marty pointed to the left and there was a lone Grizzly grazing up on a grassy terrace. We silently tiptoed past and it never even noticed we were there. A little later, Marty saw a small animal disappear into a gully. He was worried it was a bear cub and we spent a while looking out for the mother. Later in a souveneir bookshop, we found the animal he had seen - a wolverine.

At last we reached the glacier that marked where to cross our pass into the Toklat River valley. On the map it looked simple. Follow the glacier in a straight line, then when it makes a dramatic turn to the right we turn 90 degrees to the left. We walk in a straight line over the pass to another glacier which we follow down until we find a nice flat campsite where we sleep the midnight sun happily away.

We followed the first part of the glacier and followed the natural progression over moving glacial mud and rocks to the center of an enormous glacial bowl. I picked out what I thought was our pass. It seemed too far away though. We sat and studied our map, then picked a position closer to the other side where we could view another valley that also looked likely. It took almost an hour to get across and we were both feeling quite tired, but it was no time to stop with time quickly passing, so we went with my first choice. I was terrified I had it wrong it again and as we grew closer to the saddle I was praying so hard we were on the right track. The sensation of relief was overwhelming when we made the pass and found we did have it right. I was ecstatic for the two minutes it took me to register what we now had to walk down. Steep scree showed between tounges of snow and glaciated terrain. Our book told us this pass was a tempting place to camp as the views were superb. All but the valley we were to walk down was clouded over and the stoney terrain did not look like an inviting bed. The way down looked clear and we picked the route we would take to the glacier valley entrance where there should be grassy places to set up our tent.

Marty was the heroe and took the lead down the edge of a snow chute. Once past the initial section I didn't find the walking too bad. Once we got a lot lower we got caught in some ravines where the earth went up and down in loose slippery earth piles. To our right the glacier carved out sections of hillside and there were some large crevasses opened up. Some seemed to be caused by a river that wound it's way through the morraine. At last Marty found a way across a small lick of snow to a more plateaued gravel spit that carried us right down to the valley entrance. The walking was much easier here and the view fantastic, but weariness began to creep in. At 10:00pm we finally came to the first comfortable camping area. It was gorgeous. A small terrace of grass with a fairy ring sat tucked up against a hillside. A small clear water stream ran past providing drinking water and we were able to have a clear view down the valley. On our map we discovered we had almost walked out. At the most we were 5 hours hike from the road and our pick-up. This gave us the confidence to sleep in the next morning. We lay around and played yahtzee and dozed. At one point I went out for a breath of fresh air and a fat little animal with a bushy tail ran or to be more precise, waddled away quickly, squealing as it went. It disappeared up a scree slope making me laugh with it's squeaks. At least I started laughing once I realised it wasn't a bear cub with an angry mother right behind it. On later pictures I recognised it as a hoary marmot.

At 1:30 Marty suggested a walk to look around the corner bluff and make sure our road was in sight, walking no more than an hour we would then return to camp. We walked for an hour and a half, at times scrambling over bluffs or scaling rocky cliffs to bypass the river but the road still wasn't in sight. We kind of paniced after our blunders into the wrong valley the day before, but there was no way we could be wrong this time. I found some old people footprints that also convinced me we were where we thought we were. However, we decided we needed to pack up camp and move closer to our ride out, so returning to our tent which was now flapping in a strong wind tunnel coming from the valley behind we broke camp, ate pasta (delicous this time) and made our way lower down the valley.

Our walk now took us down past the wolf exclusion zone. We could see caribou prints in the river mud. I think it was in trouble as wolf paw prints stalked it the whole way down. We never did see a carcass to my relief. When it got to 8pm we stopped and made camp on the river shingle. Green turf lay invitingly to the east but it was out of bounds. I was so tired I slept long and deeply but the stones made a hard mattress and Marty lay awake long into the sunlit night.

The morning arrived with Marty's watch beeping. We got up and broke camp in record time eating muesli bars for a hurried breakfast. We walked hard for two hours still not seeing the road but making up the idea of seeing a bridge in the far distance. Marty suddenly saw a yellow blob he thought might be the ranger station we were heading for. In minutes we saw a tour bus cutting a line through a nearby hillside and we knew we were home and dry. As we made it to the road embankment, the first bus that could pick us up, of the day went by. We flagged it down and took a seat amongst a group of other weary hikers who were on their way out of the park. The wilderness suddenly became distant again as we were absorbed back into the human world where we had to politely converse with the other hikers, then face the madness of the crowds at the park entrance.

At 2pm we got onto the Grand Alaskan Railway, taking a train up to Fairbanks. We thought we were arriving at 6:30 with plenty of time to get accomodation and book a train trip up to the Arctic Circle the next day, but the train ran late and it was past 9pm when we pulled into the station. The station was remote and after 20 minutes all other passengers and the taxis had all disappeared. Every place we called for a room were booked out, even the cheapest most dire places to stay. We were down to our last quarter, so Marty did the wise thing and called a taxi with it. While we waited a rail worker came out to make sure we were ok. He recommended a place for us to eat - the Food Factory. It was a diner with a menu that reminded me of Fast Eddies in Perth but much cheaper. We shared popcorn shrimp and a sliced steak roll with watery beer. The kind waitress let me make calls on their phone to a list of vacancies given us by the kind rail worker. Each place was full until the last, the Arctic Oases, a B&B out of town. I took it.

We had arranged to meet the manager of the Arctic Oases at 10:45pm. Our taxi dropped us off to a locked house in a very quiet deserted street. Half an hour later the manageress turned up. She had stopped for fuel and was apologetic. We were just relieved we could go in to a bed. She showed us around and offered us coffee but we were shattered. She told us she would need to potter about to make breakfast the next day but there was a noise diffuser that should muffle the sounds. An hour later after showers and spreading our gear to dry and air she was still moving around. We couldn't imagine what she was doing and Marty eventually went out and asked her to be a bit quieter. In the morning we got up for the 'light breakfast' and discovered what the fuss had been about. We were served the most amazing breakfast. Fruit and yoghurt and muffins with coffee. Potato hash pies - huge - served in medium sized casarole dishes and a breakfast casarole which was like a quiche with beef mince on it and orange juice too. After we ate till we couldn't move and our kind hostess was satisfied we were replete we went back to our room with the phone and attempted to get on an Arctic Circle day tour. It was now 10:00am and all the buses departed at 6:30am so we had well and truly missed our window of opportunity. Marty made lots of calls and eventually we decided it would be worth the symbolism of standing in the Arctic Circle to make the financial sacrifice and fly up. This meant we also had to fly back down to Anchorage rather than bus to make our Vancouver flight. When that was all set up we took a taxi back in town to the Go North Hostel where we set up our tent. We wandered around downtown Fairbanks after a relaxing afternoon and visited the Pioneer Park. This was a group of wooden log cabins that were converted into tourist shops and muesems. After looking our fill we went back to the hostel and cooked up dinner - pasta left over from our hiking trip in Denali...

A kind lady gave us a ride down to the movies and we watch Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Man's Chest. Despite the sticky concrete floors and decrepid nature of Fairbanks one and only movie theatre, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. There is nothing like a grand adventure set on the high seas... I think Marty felt disappointed the movie ended as a cliff hanger setting itself up for another sequel, but I am glad we haven't yet reached the end of the tale.

The morning didn't dawn so much as we just woke up. We had a relaxed breakfast and sat around on a sun deck talking to other hostellers about their travels around the place. Our flight to the Arctic Circle left at 1pm so we eventually made our way down to the address of the charter company we were flying with. Apart from one 12 year old girl, we were by far the youngest on the plane trip and I felt a bit unsure we were doing the right thing. Perhaps we should wait another 40 years.

The plane was a 12 seater with one seat in the cockpit. As with all small planes the ride up was a bit bumpy. The poor lady sitting behind Marty became quite ill. Beneath us hills covered in pink fireweed rolled out and we gained our first view of the Alaskan Pipeline. It really is just a pipeline. It is hard to describe the view, hundreds of lakes, winding rivers, spruce forests, hills, mountains, the Yukon River, occasional glimpses of the highway and the pipeline. Mostly, nothing but wilderness. A taxi driver's words came back to me: It is God's own country up here, some days the clouds are just so white and fluffy you could just reach your arms out and hug them.

As we landed at Coldfoot. I saw a wolverine scurry up an embankment and disappear into some low scrub. We were directed straight off the plane onto a shuttle bus where we were driven 16 miles north to a subsistence village of 12 or 13 people called Wiseman to meet a mysterious man called Jack. Coldfoot was a goldmining town that received it's name when winter fell and lots of goldminers left for warmer parts. The ones who stayed said the leavers must have got cold feet. A little later gold was found a little further north so I guess the wise men just went that way to settle.

Jack was what made this journey into the Arctic Circle worth every penny we spent. He must have been in his late 40s and was a local legend. He spoke for 2 hours solid on the area answering all sorts of random questions and gave us a tour around his house. On arriving there the first thing that struck one was the rows of wolf skulls lined up on his outer wall. Next were the neat rows of vegetables and the wind turbine that generated power for Jack's computer. Entering his house, celery leaves and mushrooms were drying over his fire and the room was dominated by a mounted grizzly head he had shot on his first hunt at the age of 12 and a stuffed dall sheep head of which I never found out the story. Every other service was covered in pictures, books, pieces of art and useful implements. Solar lights were mounted on the ceiling and shaded with cut off paper bags. On our way out there were a row of all the furs Jack trapped, wolf, wolverine, marmot, and many others I can't remember now. Outside was a type of totem pole constructed of moose antlers. Jack walked us back down to the musem talking about the flora, fauna and gold of the area. It really was a treat to listen to someone who knew their subject so well. On our ride back to the plane Marty jokingly warned me not to elope. He is safe this time as Jack is married - our shuttle driver let us in on that one.

The flight back to Fairbanks was smoother so more enjoyable. We didn't see anymore wildlife but enjoyed the wild splendour of the land unfurling before us. On landing back at Fairbanks we were awarded Arctic Circle certificates then given a ride to the airport where we caught our flight back down to Anchorage. We took a taxi back to Andy's Anchorage Guesthouse. He had to chase a friend out of the room we had booked but did so with good grace. We borrowed some bikes and rode down to Humpys for a final farewell to Alaska for this time around. The best fish and chips ever had to be a fitting end to such an epic adventure. We arrived at the door to Humpys hungry and ready to eat. The bouncer stopped us and asked for ID. Marty and I just looked at each other completely crestfallen. Unfortunately we had left it back at the hostel. There was no option but to bike all the way back. By this time it was 10:30pm so we called it a day. We chatted to another hosteller then fell asleep to the sound of Andy's dog barking.

The morning arrived too quickly. Our bags were packed so we walked down to the bus stop to catch a ride out to the airport. On the way a lovely lady stopped us and asked us if we would like a ride anywhere. She used to backpack around and felt empathetic. We were almost at our stop so we declined - or at least Marty did, I would have snapped up the offer. We sat down to wait for the bus when the friend Andy had cleared out of our room stopped and offered us a ride. This time we took the offer up. He was a manager of a remote lodge out on an island and was interesting to talk to so our ride went quickly.

The Anchorage airport is a nice place to hang out. After getting our boarding passes and going through security we sat down at a restaurant called chillies and ate delicous nachos. Next stop Vancouver!

PS Marty is working hard on developing a site for our photos which will be linked in the next week or two. Thanks for reading and for your comments.

The land of Eminem, 8 Mile Road, Motown and the Henry Ford Muesem, we were happy to be going to Detroit. Most importantly of all it is the home of Emily and Ryan. Emily is a friend I made in Taiwan so it was impossible for me to visit America without calling in to see her and her husband.

The flight from New York was much nicer than our LA connection. The plane was small but the seats were roomy and comfortable and the flight attendant was really friendly. Our flight came in early but Ems was at the airport to meet us as planned. It was so good to see her again.

Our time in Detroit has been spent resting, catching up on Alaskan research and socialising with Emily and Ryan rather than rushing around all the sights to be seen. It has been a much needed break for me.

In saying that, Emily and Rayn have taken us to an Art Fair, an outdoor concert by the Detroit Symphony Orchestra (one of USA's top ten) and visited the Henry Ford muesem with so many grand old cars on display. We also had the honour of attending a service at the Lakeside Bible Chapel. Ryan is a mechanical engineer for Ford so Marty had lots to talk about with him.

Full of Emily's good cooking and refreshed by the Nelson household hospitality, Marty and I are both feeling ready to take on Alaska and hiking Denali National Park.

New York, New York!

I never realised how many movies filmed or how many famous people and so many famous buildings are all located in Manhatten, New York.

The ChristChurch skies cried buckets as we departed New Zealand through the Qantas domestic airport. It seemed the whole of NZ was covered in cloud, hiding those beautiful snowy mountains we were so excited over flying in. In Auckland I was able to quickly catch up on emails due to our flight being delayed by almost an hour. When we went to board our flight to LA we were alarmed to have our boarding passes blank and be detained to one side. The alarm didn't last long as we heard the good news that we had been upgraded to business class due to a full flight. So it was champagne and apertifs for us and probably as good a sleep as you can get on a 12 hour flight due to our reclining chairs that tipped back horizontally to a bed, pillows, blankets, good food and even better toiletries...I never want to fly economy again! Landing in LA late was a bit of a shock. The airport was dirty and unclearly labelled. We managed to get rebooked into a later flight after missing our connection. This flight was awful! 5 hours packed into tiny chairs and only served 2 glasses of water each over the entire flight. When we landed in New York it took almost an hour before our baggage was unloaded. In the taxi queue we got talking to a lovely lady in front of us called Miranda. She was from Perth, living in ChristChurch and was on a work trip to NY. She shared her taxi with us as she was staying in the same area - Upper West Side (how surreal to be using such famous words for real). That saved us $50 straight up so we were really grateful.

Our hotel was very  typical New York on Broadway and 94th, Upper Westside. The architecture was beautiful, the lobby full of marble and leather couches, then you step into the elevator. It was so dirty, shabby, slow and you could hear chains rattle as you ascend or descend. Our room on the 8th floor was tiny, with silk wall paper peeling off the walls. But it was very clean and I loved it. The Subway and Tourist Bus Stop were right outside as was a good bakery and other corner shops.

Our first morning was raining hard so we purchased an umbrella and walked down to the Natural History Muesum, a dream come true for Marty. We spent hours looking at dinosaur bones and fossils, then at Native American displays. Before leaving we saw the Aztec displays and the Hall of Biodiversity. At 2pm we finally stumbled back out into daylight ready for some lunch. Not fully comprehending distances yet, we decided to walk down to Times Square and get some food. We walked down through the grand trees, luscious greenery and beautiful lakes of Central Park. The rain had stopped and we finally found a food place just before Times Square that sold the most delicous split pea soup I ever tasted. Marty was happy with the lentil soup too. Times Square was not what we thought! It isn't even square and a road goes right through it! Here we splashed out and bought 48 hours on the tourist buses. They are double deckers with guides who describe what you are driving past with lots of stops at popular visitor destinations. It seemed like a really good way to orientate ourselves without having to brave the notorious suway.

The first bus we took downtown to the Staten Island ferry. This is a free ferry that sails right past the Statue of Liberty. Once we got to Staten Island we came straight back and took a subway to Greenwhich Village for dinner. This area is famous for it's beatniks and artists though we didn't see anyone unusual there. We wondered back toward our hotel taking in Washington Square with glowing fireflies and a cool organic food store called Whole Foods where we bought breakfast for the next day. A kind lady stopped and helped us pick out a route to get back to our hotel on the subway where we crashed out, tired and replete.

The next morning we jumped on the tourist bus to Harlem and had a fantastic tour guide point out famous buildings. It was strange to hear East Side and West Side bandied about so naturally. We got to see where the Black/Hispanic gang fights were fought and where Jacki Onassis lived. We changed buses at Time Square and went down to the Empire State Building. I don't know if it was so much a tour as being hearded through a cacophony of lines but the view from the top was quite amazing. It certainly felt like we were standing on top of the world. We came down from there and went for a shop in Maceys. It had some beautiful dresses and a gourmet food area, but the prices didn't really cater to a pair of Australian/Kiwi backpackers so we made purchases at cheaper shops off the streets. I got a little black dress and matching shoes and Marty got a dress t-shirt. From there we took the downtown bus again but had missed the Brooklyn tour for the day so had a beer on Pier 17 instead, then walked over the Brooklyn Bridge and back. From there we walked into China Town for cheap and tasty Vietnamese. We subwayed home, changed into our finery and hit the New York nightclubs. After reading a write up on them I was paranoid we wouldn't be let in as we aren't really part of the world's aristocracy, but we had no problem. The first one, Glass, was empty and we had a nice chat with a local gentleman who bought us drinks on his departure. The second one, Marquee, was turning people away. Marty asked if we were in the special guest queue and the bouncer let us in before anyone else! This nightclub has been known to have the Hilton sisters dancing on the tables, but they certainly weren't there this night. It was getting late so we didn't stay too long. To my surprise, the first taxi I hailed pulled over and picked us up.

Friday morning was a struggle to get out of bed due to jetlag and a late night hitting us hard. However we dragged ourselves out of bed to try and get 50% off Broadway tickets to one of the shows on that night. The ticket booth didn't open yet so after fortifying ourselves with tea, we took the subway down and joined the Brooklyn tour - our last on our ticket. Brooklyn had the most beautiful library. A hugely ornate building with greek colomns and statues in front and around. It was too bad we had no time to go in. After the tour finished we picked up our discount Broadway tickets then headed back to our room and rested a little before dressing up for Broadway. My New York dress was already getting some mileage. We went downtown early and ate pizza for dinner. We could see them making the bases by spinning dough around by hand - what skill! I would make the lumpiest base in that manner but ours was perfect. From there we went straight to the St James Theatre where we had booked in to see The Producers. It was hilarious and the actors and actresses really were world class. The most amazing thing to me, however, was the murals painted on the theatre walls and roof and the biggest chandelier ever.

After the show we took a taxi home packed our bags for Detroit then slept like logs. In the morning we had a call car take us to the airport through the hotel. We soon learnt these are a step above taxis in both comfort and price. We will know for next time.

Please forgive the lack of photos. We have a small limit right now but are working on a way to publish them.

Flying into NZ was magical. The Southern Alps had just received a massive dump of snow that spread out across the Canterbury Plains presenting a sparkling fantasy playground.

Marty and I left Perth at midnight of June 17th 2006. At Sydney we changed planes and fitted in a little duty free shopping. This included sampling all the new Baileys flavours - perhaps not the best thing for 6am in the morning. Fortunately our flight to NZ was nearly empty and I could sprawl across the center seats with a blanket and sleep the flight away. I awoke on news of our descent which begins almost before the West Coast of the South Island is in sight. Things promised to be good.

Mum and Dad met us out at the airport on a chilly but sunny 8 degree day. We had a light nap and dinner at their house in Dunsandel with Helen and Dean while ignoring/admiring the snow on their front lawn. It was tempting but for some reason we stayed by the fire instead of going to play in it. After dinner we went into ChristChurch to Vanda's 30th birthday party. It was a fancy dress affair with a 'dress from another country' theme. Marty wore safari gear and carried an inflatable crocodile - a great hit with all the children - while I wore my mother's Scottish scarf and jewellery. When jetlag finally overtook us, Helen whisked us away to a comfortable, electric blanket heated bed.

The following day was accidentally written off by us sleeping until 1pm. We did manage to find time to go for a walk around the Halswell Quarry. On Monday we recovered our snowboarding gear from Mum and Dad's barn, went shopping at Riccerton Mall and walked Taylor's Mistake headland walk before returning to Dunsandel for dinner with friends Abigail and Charles. We also received confirmation that a back country snowboarding/caving trip was going to go ahead so Tuesday morning was spent running around town hiring snowshoes, transceivers, shovels, probes and lots of other assorted gear necessary for our survival. We spent the afternoon at Mt Hutt ski field regaining a feel for the snow and our boards. Fillling up with fuel in Methven we got a fright when none of our cards worked at the gas station. Luckily we could withdraw funds from an ATM down the road so we could recover my snowboard that had been left as surety.

The plan for Wednesday was to rise and leave Dunsandel early in order to arrive at Carolyn and Matt's in Wanaka in time to have a good catch up and an early night before leaving for our backcountry venture the next morning. Instead we took the entire morning to sort and pack all our gear leaving a late after lunch start to what turned out to be quite an exciting road trip. An hour down the road at Geraldine, snow began to fall and add itself to the drifts already stacked against the road. In our big Surf we felt comfortable in ignoring the 'Road Closed' sign from Geraldine to Fairlie, then again to go through Burke's Pass. The vehicle hardly even slid around despite the ice and snow it was driving over. Just past Lake Tekapo we were forced to stop by a Kiwi Experience bus that had slid out and blocked off the whole road. Fortunately it managed this right by the army base so it didn't take too long for a huge truck to come and tow it out of the way. Marty rode the verge with his board while we waited. By 5pm we were at Omarama contemplating the Lindis Pass. Marty was exhausted and didn't really want to tackle the steepest hardest pass of all as dark was rapidly descending. Carolyn chose that moment to ring through to see if we were ok and before I knew it I had agreed to be at her house in 3 hours - twice the time it would usually take for that drive. I took the wheel and headed through fat snowflakes and inches of snow on the road making it without any problems to the top of the pass. There we found a bus and trailored truck blocking the road. Just as we were about to turn back, they managed to clear each other leaving the road free again. Thankfully Marty took the wheel again and I could sit back and take in the surreal sight of deserted trucks slid out and abandoned on the side of the road, hazard lights still flashing. It was a relief to finally pull into Carolyn and Matt's just before 9pm where they had roast chicken on the table and lots of warmth and cheer to welcome us with.

Thursday began at 5:30am. We rose and dressed in the dark then nicked around the corner to pick up James for the ride back over the Lindis Pass to Twizel and the McKenzie Valley behind. A promising playground for snowboards depsite modrerate avalanche danger. We met Tim and Zoe at the Tarras Store just after 6:30am. In the bitter cold we were all jealous of Zoe's Mobil Station coffee. The risk now was that the road workers would close Lindis Pass to clear it before we could get through. We drove following Tim about half an hour into the pass before coming to the closed sign. After a moment's pause Tim drove around it and we followed suit. Two minutes up the road we came to a semi trailor that had jack-knifed and almost blocked the entire road. There was just enough space to get around it so we continued on with the road no worse than it had been the night before and no sign of the previous night's abandoned trucks. An hour later we were pulling into a car park just off the Mt Cook road and rearranging our pack's ready for a 9km hike into an old mustering hut converted into hiking quarters by DoC (the Department of Conservation). After crossing two paddocks we donned our snow shoes and fairly flew across the foot + deep snow. Our only hold up was passing through a pine grove where branches overladen with snow had snapped off and fallen over the path. Normally not a problem, with big packs and snowboards it bacame quite an obstacle course. We ended up taking everything off and portering it through. After that it was a long slog across the wide river flat to the base of the McKenzie Valley and the Baikie Hut. It was built in 1949 but recently had been renovated by DoC and had a great new wood burning stove at one end. I was so glad to see that little wooden shack as I was exhausted by the unaccustomed weight of the snowboard on my pack. The evening was passed shivering next to the wood burner and cooking hot pasta on Marty's MSR stove.

We woke up at daybreak the next day. Usually that would be early but now in NZ that means about 8am.  The decision was made to hike over the next ridge and find a place to build a snowcave for the following night. We would then return down to Baikie Hut for the final night before walking out. We had a practice play with our transceivers then packed our bags ready to go. The day's hike started with a river crossing. I learnt a whole new definition for the word cold! That crossing hurt! It was a good opportunity for Marty and I to try out our new river sandals and they worked a treat, though we later discovered they didn't dry as quickly as we would have hoped. I lost the snow basket off my walking stick somewhere in the river which was fortunately the only incident. The hike up to our valley was more arduous than it looked so we were pleased when we finally reached the top. From there we snowboarded down with our packs (no mean feat) to a river bank with snow drifts built up against it for our snow caves. The next 3 hours were spent shaping and building the caves then all but myself crossed the creek and hiked up a snow chute to ride down just as it got dark. I was relieved to save myself the tumbles I would have taken and the wet boots Marty got crossing the creek, but the cup of tea I intended brewing had to wait as we had forgotton to bring in a lighter for our stove. This time we were lucky as Tim and James both had lighters but we won't forget that one again.

The night in the cave was definitely an adventure. Tim and Zoe occupied one cave and James, Marty and I took the other. Without the experience of sleeping in one before we had made the roof slightly too low to sit up and too narrow to sleep 3 across so Marty slept down a tunnel with his head next to mine while James and I were top to toe in the wider part near the entrance. It was a pretty cold night and early in the morning Marty's feet started to feel numb. At daybreak - or some time after we got up. James had to go first, then I, then Marty. There wasn't enough room for us to sort ourselves out at the same time. Our boots were frozen solid and difficult to put on as was everything else in camp. Eventually we sorted ourselves out and put our daypacks together, turned our transceivers on and began our hike up the valley.

The snow was beautiful! The sun shone clear in a blue sky and hares ran away from us while up on the hill, Thar (New Zealand mountain goats) milled around looking for food. We filled water bottles from the creek and the pure icy cold water was refreshing and rejuvenating. At 1pm we stopped for lunch looking far down to our caves. It grew steeper ahead and knowing my snowboarding abilities Marty agreed to make an early start back with me rather than hike higher with the others. The ride out was like nothing else. Fresh powder and I had first tracks... it was amazing until I fell onto a Spaniard (a flax with pointy tips that carry a mild poison). After that I managed to take a few tumbles and down by the creek I resorted to my snowshoes again. Marty rode almost back to the caves - very  impressive! The others weren't too far behind and before I had scraped the ice off our sleeping mats they were down too. In half an hour we were ready to hike back up the ridge we had boarded down the day before. The ride down back to the hut should have been a simple 15 minute journey, but for some reason, I could not ride with my pack on my back. It turned into an absolute mission to get down. Fortunately the others were all really patient and could see the humour in me floundering around in the snow. James went ahead to get the fire going and when I finally made it down with Marty's and Tim's help the windows emitted an extremely welcoming glow. We still had a river crossing to make before we could enjoy the warmth of the wood burner's blaze. To my surprise, with warm feet from snowshoeing, I didn't even feel the cold from the water this time and ran around for about 15 minutes with my river crossing shoes still on before I even began to feel a bit cool. Marty's toes were still quite numb and we were all concerned he had frost bite as his big toe had turned a dark purple. Despite that it was a fun night to be in a hiking hut in the back country of NZ. Stories were told and jokes made, all the good things of hiking including lots of chocolate, emerged. One story was that our friend Peter who is in the NZ army had been out on a training mission. At night in the freezing cold they stopped to sleep and everyone got into warm sleeping bags except for the patrol leader (SAS) who lay down in what he was wearing. In the morning when they went to wake him they found he was already awake, staring at a laminated picture of a fire to keep warm. The evening ended with crawling into my cozy sleeping bag a foot away from the condensation covered roof completely at peace with the world.

When we awoke it was cold.  The drips of condensation I had noticed right above my nose the night before had become icy stars. More jokes were made about all the uses a laminated picture of a fire could be put to. Marty, who had slept fully dressed, jumped up to get the fire going (and to make me a hot cup of tea in bed) and informed me my boots left right next to it had frozen solid. It took all of us a long time to get ourselves out of bed, but once we did it was a wonderful day. We walked out and down over the river flat chasing inversion cloud before us. The mountains behind us now, looked incredible. This time the pine grove didn't hold us back at all. We were all a lot more confident with handling our packs and gear and we all walked straight through the labyrinth of falling branches. James made the joke that nothing would hold me back from reaching our cars. It was true. I was ready to be back in a comfortable warm room in dry clothes.

Driving back to Wanaka was uneventful with most of the snow and ice melted off the roads. We rented a nice single room apartment for the night to dry out all our gear and do mountains of laundry. Once we were organised we went over for dinner with Carolyn and Matt. Tim and Zoe called in for a coffee - it was hard to imagine it was only that morning we had been so far from the comfort of a friend's living room. We stayed with Carolyn and Matt the next night but went down to Queenstown for the Winter Festival Mardi Gras on Tuesday night. This was timely as Carolyn's midwife instructed her to head to Dunedin to have her almost due baby. We are still waiting for the arrival but it really will be any day now.

We stayed with Abigail and Charles in their parent's timeshare in Qeenstown and had a great time catching up with all my friends there. Marty went to the doctor and we were relieved to discover that the frost bite was more of a frost nip that should heal itself so he won't be losing any toes this time around. A valuble lesson was learnt, fortunately not at the expense of a digit. The Mardi Gras was fun and we enjoyed mulled wine and food from the stalls, then retreated to a bar with old friends and students to tell stories and relax.

In the morning we got up latish after a good nights sleep and bid farewell to Abi and Charles and their four beautiful children then hiked up toward the gondola. The track was draped with icy stalagmites and stalagtites sparkling amongst the ferns and along the track banks. We came back into town for lunch with Tash and coffee with Hiedi, Eva and Will. It was also really great to see Steve and Kirsten again. It was so good to see everyone doing so well. We then drove up to Bannockburn to stay the night with Zoe and Tim before heading back up to ChristChurch before the next forecast storm broke.

We got up to ChristChurch in time to spend a night out celebrating with Helen who had just finished exams. We played pool at my old favorite haunt - the Dux de Lux in the Art Center. Eventually we caught a cab back to her place and enjoyed another long comfortable sleep in her bed while she graciously slept on a stretcher in her lounge room.

We woke in good time to go out to a FairyDown sale shop. FairyDown is an outdoor wear/gear company that was recently liquidated and sold off. This outlet store was selling top range gear for below wholesale prices. Marty relented and let me buy the most wonderful tent I have ever seen in my life! We got sleeping bags and down jackets too. It was so much fun shopping for all this gear. Now I am confidant we have all we need for our trip - though we still don't have a lighter...

The following day we woke up a bit earlier, despite having many family and friends over for dinner the night before. The programme was to pick up my Uncle Hugh and go out to the Rangiora Air Field with him where he would take us all for a fly in his microlight. It was a beautiful day and Uncle Hugh is a competent pilot. I went up first and had the time of my life. Strapped in to a tiny open air cockpit seat, we followed the Ashley River out to the sea where we almost dive bombed a couple of seals, chased seagulls and ducks, landed on the beach then took off again - it was completely brilliant. We flew for almost an hour before I was dropped off and my mother Marjorie was taken up for a ride. She also had a great experience though wasn't so sure she needed to do it again any time soon. Marty was given a bit more of a run for his money with a steep take off and lots of tight turns. Dad (Malcolm) also had a go and came down smiling. Uncle Hugh had spent almost 4 hours of solid flying time with only a brief break in the middle for lunch so was also pretty happy with how the day had gone. I would microlight anytime!

Last night we had a lovely Indian dinner cooked for us by Sanjay, Vanda's husband and today we went to my parent's church then came home to sit by their fire. Before dark we took Milly the dog for a walk/bush bash down by the Selwyn River. With only a day before we go the rest of our time will be spent in packing, practicing making a pavlova in case we need to show anyone some kiwi/aussie cuisine and I have to go to the dentist as a filling fell out. On Tuesday July 4 we leave ChristChurch and after a couple of brief stopovers will arrive in New York.