Joyeux Noël

For the holidays this year, Bill and I packed up our skis and headed East to spend some time with mère et père' Daigle in Fort Kent, Maine.

We were spoiled by the miles of groomed cross country trails at the Biathalon Center, just up the road. Bill even found the "Moat" that was named after him when he was a ski racer in high school.

I got to work on my French Canadian, and came away with some pretty good insults. Bill's French Acadian uncle was my tutor and pumped up my ego. Ja'i le front tout le tour de la tête. Right, mon oncle?

This is a new mural, painted on a building near downtown Fort Kent, that pays homage to the potato farmers in Northern Maine. Bill and I both worked in the spud fields growing up, even though we lived on opposite sides of the country. We each had two weeks of "vacation" during potato harvest during each school year. And still, after 8 years together, we have not yet had a taste-off of the Idaho vs. the Maine potato. Regardless, I'm pretty sure my high school mascot (The Mighty Russet) is tougher than his. Attache ta tuque!

For New Year's we drove up to Quebec City, one of the oldest European cities in North America. Established in the 1600s, this cool, very French, cobbled city was built as a fort on the Saint Lawrence River. As we walked along the foot-ball-field-sized boardwalk overlooking the river, we were shocked when a canoe full of paddlers launched out into the ice ridden water. They managed to break through the ice chunks with their paddles and feet, to maneuver to the other side, over half a mile away. I mean, seriously, who in their right mind would do that? You have to check out this video, courtesy of the land of You Tube, to fully appreciate what it means to paddle across a moving river of ice chunks. We land lubbers were plenty cold as it was, without a dip in the Saint Lawrence.

The Quebec humidity made it feel 20 degrees
colder, and while I tried to stave off frost-bite, this
tiny Québécois handled the cold like it was child's play.

 

Bill's dad, Ron, had the right idea for a head warmer, which doubled as a fashion statement. He bought his bonnet from a little shop where the hats were handmade.

Of course, once we made it back to Maine, we left a little time to indulge in some great "Downeast" seafood. We highly recommend the Lobster Diavolo at Portland's Street and Company. Delicious!

A Grizzly Glacier Tale

Bill and I wrangled a couple of my brothers, Josh and Nick, and Nick's girlfriend Casie, into coming with us on a two-night backcountry trip into Glacier National Park, with an itinerary putting us over Gunsight Pass. 

The A Team: Casie, Nick, Bill, Josh, Cass 

Probably about 8 or 9 miles in on the first day, through wind and hail and rain-soaked undergrowth, we were finally nearing the top of Gunsight Pass. The trail became a chiseled pathway right into the mountain-side, with sheer, rocky drop-offs to the lake below. Up ahead, there was a snow crossing that looked a little treacherous with the steep angle. We were studying the snow, and Josh pointed out one additional potential complication: two grizzlies foraging for grubs just below the snowfield, maybe 200 yards away. We had a moment of excitement and drank in the sight for a few minutes, then decided to press on. We crossed the field without any indecent, and made it 200 yards up the trail, to a fantastic overlook. While admiring a mountain goat on the opposite mountain, a couple of us looked back and were surprised to see a grizzly coming up the trail after us. And, then...it broke into a run. For your enjoyment, and for the "grizzly tale", here are some videos, courtesy of You Tube. 

Needless to say, other than a pepper spray to my face, and maybe a few pairs of wet underwear, we came out unscathed. After the first day, the weather became a sun-bather's dream, and we stretched out on the rocks to pick huckleberries, unhurried and happy.

The Gunsight Pass hike scenery was jaw dropping, and the campgrounds had character and beauty. Pit toilets earned not so consistently high marks, but the open pit toilet at Lake Ellen Wilson campground, with its unmatched overlook of the lake, set the bar high for all other pit toilets out there. There were a plethora of mountain goats, many of whom visited us in camp and tried to lick at anything salty. We also got to check out one of the park's only hike-in chalets and grabbed a tasty lunch of soup, sandwiches, and pie.

Kudos to Nick and Casie for introducing us to this delicious "gourmet" backcountry meal, which will definitely be a part of our next trek: 

Beefy Noodle Bowl

• 3 Tbsp beef jerky, shredded
• 1 3-ounce package of Ramen noodles
• 1 1-ounce package instant onion soup
• 2 Tbsp mixed dried vegetables
• 1/4 tsp garlic powder
• 1/4 tsp ground ginger
• 1/2 tsp dried cilantro
• 1 or 2 packets of soy sauce, optional

At home: Discard flavor packet from noodles, combine all dry ingredients in a quart size, freezer zip lock bag.

On the trail: Boil about 2 cups water. Add to zip lock bag, then stir or shake gently until all is soft and rehydrated. Season with soy sauce as desired.
Makes 2 servings. This receipe courtesy of One Pan Wonders

French Polynesia: Merci and Mauruuru!

Back to the US at LAX, and we can read all the signage.

On our whirlwind trip to the southern hemisphere, we felt sadly left behind by knowing only one language. Many travelers we met were proficient in multiple languages, which is an asset we greatly admire and desire. After departing NZ we had a few days in French Polynesia to sit on the beach and relax. It was quite exciting trying to navigate amongst all the French and Tahitian signage and verbal instructions. Bill's childhood in northern Maine (Acadian territory) helped out in the French department, and he could pick up some of the vital bits...although usually inappropriately timed, after some reflection, when it was too late for it to be useful in conversation; but he impressed me with the random stuff he came up with. (We bought Rosetta Stone in the airport on our way home; we'll see if it lives up to all the hype--we're optimistic.)

While in French Polynesia, we spent a few days between Tahiti and it's dramatic, mountainous neighbor Moorea. One night while camping on Moorea's beach, it was quite peaceful until a bird in the coconut tree above us crapped onto our screen door and it splattered all over Bill's face. I woke up to him laughing.

Beach in Moorea, near bird poo incident.

A definite highlight was snorkeling off of Moorea's northwest coast among the Tahitian sting rays. Some of these graceful gliders were up to 4 feet across. They just floated by you, sometimes sliding against your skin with their slimy captivating sea wings. We shared our boat with three women from China who couldn't swim. They jumped out of the boat in bright orange life jackets to snorkel in the 4-foot deep sea. It was hilarious to listen to them shriek when a ray glided by. Hilarious, that is, until I turned to talk with Bill, who had touched my leg... only it was not his hand but a ray's wing. Then I was screaming right along with the buoyed Asian tourists. The rays are gentle but terrifyingly alien up close. There were also Blacktipped reef sharks milling about, but they seemed to have no interest in us.

The night life in Papeete, French Polynesia's capital, proved to be hugely satisfying. Self-contained food vans and buses loaded the wharf after dark. We stuffed ourselves on grilled skewers of fresh tuna and swordfish, topped off with crepes filled with nutella and fresh pineapple. The food was an interesting blend representing Polynesian, Asian and French influences. A little group of folks with guitars and ukuleles entertained us while we ate.

Looking toward Moorea.

Outrigger canoe paddling away into the sunset.

Today, when we stepped of the plane and into LAX customs, the shouting, impatient TSA agents made for a cold, stark contrast to the warm welcome we'd had on the islands. "Well, we're not getting any (bleep)-ing ukuleles here," wryly and succinctly-spoken by my favorite travel companion.

Papeete, Tahiti, daily market.

Having a few at the French-style pub, Les 3 Brasseurs, downtown Papeete. 

Sunset viewed from wharf in Papeete, with Moorea's peaks decorating the background.

Abel Tasman Waves

(written Feb 12) Before departing NZ we were pumped to get in some sea kayaking around Abel Tasman National Park, at the northerly tip of the south island. The views were awesome, but my less-than-steel stomach had a rough go of things on the rocking ocean. The scenery and seal sightings were worth it. Also, Bill looked pretty fine on the beach.

This was each of our first attempts at sea kayaking on water that wasn't land-locked, and it was satisfying but hard work to make progress against the wind and current. When Bill finished his book, Kon Tiki, he passed it along to me. The adventure story of land-lubbers striking out on a home-made balsa wood raft to cross the sea certainly has my admiration; however, it makes me nauseated just to think about it.

From here, we leave NZ and head to French Polynesia for a few days, for a little rest and recovery.

Fush-un Chups 'n' Crepe Paper: NZ Cuisine

(written  Feb 8)

We're in Nelson. Bill is packing the bikes, and I am trying to stay out of the way. Our hostel room is the size of our dog's kennel, roughly 8 by 10 square feet. It's our last night in the south island of NZ. We drove from Christchurch today and splurged on some of the finest Indian food we've ever tasted here. So now I'm in a food coma and Bill is the only one motivated to pack.

To recap the last several days:

Shaken City
Last night, while lounging on a couch in Christchurch (ChCh), we heard some strange thumping and then our couch began to rock back and forth. Turned out to be a 4.0 earthquake. Our B&B bordered the "red zone" of downtown,  and we could easily see the damage to the city center from the 7.1 and 6.3 quakes (and their aftershocks) over the past 18 months. A massive crane that resembled a large iron dinosaur was busy chewing on a tower while we watched during the daylight. Our time in ChCh was short, but we didn't want to hang around to watch the depressing business of flattening a city.

Crane cleaning up wreckage in downtown ChCh after 2010 & 2011 earthquakes.

Boulders on the Beach
The Moeraki Boulders are located on a beach just out of ChCh. They are strange large, round boulders that look like they've just been plunked down onto the sand.

Adrenaline Junkies in Queenstown
"Q town" was a wild and fun city, full of energetic young backpackers with their minds set on beer, sex and adrenaline. Our hostel was a high rise in the middle of the city. We got our Queenstown adrenaline fix on a jet boat ride up the Shotover Canyon. The boat got up to 40mph while shooting through the narrow, winding rocky canyon. I about peed my pants. Here's their promotional video, and it well represent the crazy boat ride we had. Apparently, the jet boat was invented in NZ in the 1950's, so they have an inherited right to drive them like maniacs and charge money to people dumb enough to jump aboard and nearly smash their heads into the cliff walls. But it was so awesome.

To the Fiordlands
We drove (no more biking from here out) the Milford Highway to Milford Sound. Beautiful steep rocks, misted peaks, waterfalls, seals...even parrots! A ferry ride through the sound to the ocean was spectacular,with Mitre Peak tolerating us to pass beneath it's towering heights.

The sand flies reappeared here, after the brief reprieve we had in sunny Wanaka. Captain Cook reportedly called these little buggers "the most mischievous little animals" when they ate him alive during his voyages around NZ in the 1700s. An information board at Milford Sound states: "It is small comfort to know that only female flies depend on a diet of blood and water...Maori legend lays responsibility for Te Namu (sandflies) with the goddess of the underworld, Hinenuitepo. As she gazed at the beauty crafted by Tuterakiwhanoa, the carver of Fiordland, she became fearful that humans would not want to leave such a paradise. The creation of Te Namu was her reminder of our mortality and a warning not to linger too long."

The Bush Parrot, or Kea, in the mountains of the Fiordlands. 

Wildlife on the Otago Peninsula
Here we saw such crazy creatures as albatross (with up to 10 foot wingspan, soaring above us), shags, tarapuka, and writhing bull kelp in the sea below. We missed the timing to see any penguins. On the domestic side, I thought this sheep lived in a pretty wicked setting and couldn't help snapping a shot.

A contented sheep.

Drinks in Dunedin
Unfortunately, our kayaking trip through Doubtful Sound (Milford's southerly neighbor) was cancelled, so we made it northward to Dunedin early. We filled the day with a great tour through Speights Brewery, which is apparently the only remaining operating gravity-fed brewery in Australasia. "Gravity fed" means the whole process starts up on the top floor of the brewery and works its way down to the bottom; Grain on top, beer on the bottom. They operate out of the original factory built in the 1800s. At the end of the tour we got to pour and taste our own pints. Bill bought the classy souvenir pictured below. Interestingly, the neoprene glove only comes to fit the left hand. The clerk explained that, traditionally, you drink with your left hand to leave your right hand free for "your cigarette, your horse, and for scratching various bits of your anatomy." Here are some Speights ads to make you smile.

A word about the NZ dialect. This post's title is in reference to deep fried fish with fries, along with freshly ground pepper. We had to ask for "come again"s more than once, but we found the dialect delightful.

Granny Up: Crown Range Pass

Today we relied heavily on our granny gears. We climbed up and over the Crown Range Pass from Wanaka and dropped into Queenstown. It was a hot sun, and nearly 50 mile day, so we're beat. It was our last day on bikes, but what a fantastic route to end on. The road is claimed to be the highest paved road in NZ, ringing in at about 3500 feet.

Queenstown is hip and buzzing! Lots going on here. We had dinner at place called "The Cow", which is basically a tiny, old, stone-walled barn house on "Cow Lane" which used to house cows; it's right in the middle of downtown. We shared a table with a nice young couple from England who are just as excited as we are to travel. So nice to meet people from all over the world.

Lessons learned:
1. "If you care anything about conservation in this country, you'll poison the possums." Spoken by a worker at an eco lodge when we queried her about the widespread use of 1080. Almost seems to be a contradiction of terms, until you see the destruction the introduced possums actually do to the forest and the bird population; they have no natural predators.

Tomorrow we head to the Fiordlands and try our hand at driving a car in NZ.

Lake Wanaka, elevation 980 feet.

Crown Range Summit, elevation 3500 feet.

A fellow cyclist (Jeremy from the Isle of Man) on top, enjoying the view.

Dropping from the Crown Summit into Q-town. 

My street in downtown Queenstown!