A Christmas Story

Xmas midnight treat.

Celebrating Chrismakkah abroad was an interesting experience.  I lit the candles over FaceTime with my family, and I spent the Eve walking around downtown Queenstown handing out dessert.  The second part of that story came about when I went for food at my favorite bakery.  I am a familiar face there, and have befriended most of the employees there.  They gifted me a box of 6 berry tarts, which absolutely made my night.  I ate one, and decided to share the rest with whomever.  The worthy recipients were two different bouncers, a girl who didn't get into one of the bars, an acquaintance/ bartender, and a police woman.  Each was as surprised as the next to be offered a midnight treat, but the gratitude and smiles shared showed that it meant a lot to each of them.  I did it because I wanted to share something tasty, and spread a little happiness if possible.  To me, it was a great improvisation to the evening and I wouldn't have wanted to spend it any other way.
For most people, the holidays are about relaxation, letting loose, and enjoying things in excess.  I am not most people.  On Christmas morning, I did this:

Strava keeping the logbook tidy.

This was one of the most, if not "the" most brutal ride I've done.  It was so steep, unrelenting, and there were multiple occasions on which I didn't think I was going to be able to finish the ride.  It was Sufferfest '14, and it was one of the best days in a long time.  By the time I had reached the top, I had exhausted my water and food supply, so I was running on fumes.  Thankfully, the stream running through the area was of glacial origins and was fine for drinking (which I thought was super cool - first time I've been able to dunk my water bottle into running water and drink the contents).  After enjoying nature's water cooler, I pointed the bike down hill, and the real fun began; The descent was worth the ride up.  It was a little sketchy, but I sure was having a riot of a time - and passing a car on the way down was just the cherry on top.  The inspiration for this ride was, "Just to say I did it", and I'm glad I did, despite the insane climb.  The views were stunning, and the speeds were high, however, I won't be doing it again any time soon!

5km point/Just above the lodge/Top of the ski lift

No Plans Are The Best Plans

Friday Night gave a glimps into Saturday's weather.

Waking up to grey skies on a Saturday morning is usually how a lazy day starts off.  But, as everyone knows, I'm not your average person who is discouraged by a little less-than-ideal weather, and I saw this as an opporitunty to get out and potentially have the trails all to myself.  So, I made some breakfast (lunch; let's be honest, I woke up at 10:30 and ate late), read for a bit, and set out on a little mid-afternoon excursion.  I wanted to explore a trail segment call "Gold Digger" a fair distance outside of town, and knew immediately that it would be void of any traffic once I set out riding to the trailhead with a decent headwind and a wall of rain up the lake moving towards me.
Getting out to the area where the trail is located is a solid effort in itself, and in an effort to preserve myself for the "real riding", I got passed on a climb up the highway by some guy who smirked as he hoofed by...it was pretty funny actually, and I heckled him as he faded up the hill away from me.  I finally got out to where I needed to be and began the acent.  It was a fun little ride, and provided a nice warm up to what would become the real bulk of the day's ride.  By the time I got to the top of the initial climb, I was soaked - not just, "light rain/a little wet", try, "Tossed in a lake fully clothed".  The rain had found its way over to me finally, and it seemed quite eager to make itself known; Message received as I wiped rain from my eyes and tried to not drown while on a bike.  Thankfully it was warm, my spirits were high, and I was having fun getting covered in terra firma and various types of flora kicked up by the tires.
As it turns out, Gold Digger ended at the top of Moke Road, which is named as such because it goes out to Moke Lake.  I had seen this on a map, but wasn't quite sure of the exact proximity of my location to the lake.  In the true spirit of adventure, I continued on climbing up into the hills to see what was on the otherside.  After confirming my location and the distance to the lakes from a kind driver-by (a guy I'd actually briefly encounted downtown as we had both almost been run-down by the same camper van as we crossed the street), I continued on through the onslaught of warm Summer rain.  The staggering scereny was worth the effort alone, as the road wound it's way down a valley floor between two towering peaks, the sides of which came down abruptly to floor at 45+ degree angles - the mountains are impossibly steep here, I can't emphasize that enough.  These majestic giants were my main company for the day, along with countless sheep and cows, as the route to the lake goes through three different stations [farms].

Out to, and around Moke Lake.

The first of only three people out of cars I met was Sarah From Canada Who Everyone Thinks Is An American; Bummer dude, you're doing it wrong [you want people to think you're Canadian, not a Yank down here].  Quite the character, way out of her element, but going for it nonetheless.  I was quite amused when she asked if I had walked up the initial hill to get up towards the lake - definitely not!  We carried on in opposite directions, and I was keen to find something that would provide respite from the unrelenting rain.  As it were, it finally stopped raining right as I found some shelter, but the peace of mind was nice moment in which I could relax and eat before the return trip out of the hills.  There is a little loop around Moke Lake which I opted to ride as it finished back on the road, headed back the way I came.  It was a qaint twenty minute ride, repleat with excellent views, unnerving vertical drops to the water below, and a reminder than following an impluse can lead to really cool places and provide for a killer afternoon ride.
I wasn't well-prepared for this ride, but experience kept me out of trouble and on track.  I had adiquate clothing, enough food and water, and paced myself as to not burn out and safey complete the day of riding.  All told, I rode just shy of 28 miles in about 3.5 hours, and over 3,600ft of climbing.  Bigger rides like this, with inclimate weather, and no plan are what I love to do.  The zen found while zoned out, looking at the surroundings, turning over the pedals is what it's all about for me.  I felt like I was out in the middle of nowhere, without anyone around, and yet, I was only ever a couple miles from a house, town, or camp ground.  The serenity of the scenery, the majesty of the back drop, and the mixed elements mades for a truly memorable afternoon out among the pristine landscape of eNZed.

Riding out, back to a hot shower and some food.

Over The Hills And Far Away

Some days you wake up, and you know it's a day for adventure. I've been in Queenstown for a month now, and I've still only seen a small percentage of the area. I'm not one to settle for only seeing the main strip, and so, I made a point this week to put in the sweat-equity and get outside of town.
The beauty of a bike is that it's freedom on two wheels, the only cost comes in the form of calories. With the sun setting as 9:45pm here, I started my string of adventures at 7pm last night and rode West, out of town, just to see what was there. I found some great overlooks, as well as a local trail center - win/win. Less than good, I ran out of water about halfway home, but that's just a minor detail. I rewarded myself with pizza and a donut; I earned it I think.

Nearly dropped my bike in the lake trying to get the shot...

I woke up today to beautiful blue skies, a bursting sun, and a vague sense that today needed more adventure. There is a bike/foot track that rims the lake, and I was keen to see what the things south of town were like.
With better preparation and a sense of determination, I embarked on what turned out to be the longest ride I've done in a number of years. It was a solid grind, and Strava tells me it amounted to all of this:

#stravduro 

Not bad for a Friday afternoon.
The real story lies in details of this ride though. There was a fair bit of elevation gain as it apparent, and that created some stunning views of the surrounding mountains. The setting was so dynamic, as the wind gusted through the tall grass at the top of Jacks Point, it all seemed as alive and fluid as the water in the lake below. It felt like a fairytale setting...or Lord Of The Rings.

Not bad:  The Remarkables to the East, and Lake Wakatipu to the West.

I will forever marvel at the places a bike has taken me, and continue to pursue more extravagant locations and push my own limits, all for the views, the feeling of accomplishment, and the stories that come from getting out there and pushing oneself.

Lake-side watching the sunset.

Different Isn't A Bad Thing

When we experience something new, I think we tend to try draw lines in our minds to similar memories and events. For me though, I am trying to get as far away from familiar as possible. I don't want the same, the comfortable, the "known" - the world is well-discovered, but I want to turn over my own stones, have a go drawing new lines to the unknown.

Here on the other side of the world, there are a lot of familiar sights and sounds, as is to be expected in an English-speaking, first-world country. However, there are many more striking differences compared to places I've been or have lived before. Frankly, most of them are a pleasant relief from many things I'd consider grievances.
Americans should take better note of their worldly neighbors, and this quaint island nation wouldn't be a bad place to start. The minimum wage here is $14/hr, and while that is to slightly reflect the marginally higher costs of living, on a whole it provides substantial support for a booming middle class, and allows for a great deal more mobility, literally and figuratively.
Something else I have been able to take full advantage of is the ACC, or more plainly, the socialized healthcare. Accidents, like physical injury, are covered under governmental care and even someone who is not a citizen (like me) is taken care of under the system. It is fantastic. The care is comprehensive and all-inclusive.
Furthermore, most of the cars here are turbo diesel, and economy sized. SUVs are not common and most cars on the road are at least ten years old. One's status here is of little concern, it is all about just living a good life. Sure, this is the South Island - things are a little different compared to Wellington or Aukland, but on a whole, life here is on a very even keel.
However, some things don't change, and while I stood at the waterfront typing this, I was approached by two random Frenchmen who wanted to know where they could score some weed...classic. That was made up for though, as for the past half-hour I've been standing in this place, a guy has been perched on the seawall just down the way from me, pleasantly playing his ukulele, as the waves softly break upon the shore.
Queenstown isn't a really good example of Kiwi culture per se, but it is without a doubt a cultural hub and epicenter for a very interesting mixing and mingling of folks from all around the globe - a strong portion of whom are here for the sun, the mountains, and the other like-minded people that flock to just this kind of place. At the end of the day, I still feel like I'm adjusting, but that is just how moving goes: it takes time to find a steady rhythm.

Out In The Mix

  Summer is here, Summer is here!  The first nice day of the season was so memorable, the town has been talking about Tuesday all week, as though it will now be a day to remember for all of time...to be fair, it was a magnificent day!  It is a slight relief that the sun has finally come to play, and the blue skies are less clouded than when I first arrived - I was starting to worry that I really hard dragged the shitty Fall weather down to the underside of the World with me!  I have yet to develop a good base tan (cue collective laugh, as that has never happened), so the greater Queenstown area has been spared the blinding shine of my still very pale self - I'm keeping myself wrapped up like a present under the tree.

"The Tuesday" everyone's talking about, as seen from my balcony.

  In a totally unrelated segue, I feel like I'm really settling in, as I have now earned my first free coffee from a local shop (buy five, get the sixth one free!) - of course I measure my success of "localizing" myself by how familiar I am with local baristas.  I think building rapport with the people who serve your coffee and drive your bus route are the two most pragmatic and effective alliances one can build in a new place.  A good cuppa and someone who knows why you're chasing their bus will make sure your days run a little more smoothly, even when they're not.
  As mentioned previously, this town really is full of good-natured and nice people.  The level of friendliness makes it incredibly easy to make friends if you're willing to put yourself out there - a very high ROI for someone as sociable as I am.  I attended a Birthday BBQ on Friday, only really knowing the person hosting, and left with a whole new social group.  It is a great feeling to find a group of like-minded people with like-interests, who are also welcoming of new people; it was a hilarious evening and I'm certain there will be more shenanigans like that in the future.  Keeping with the out-going nature of this adventure, I decided to go out on Saturday night as well.  The first stop of the evening was to one of the local bars I prefer, a small spot called Atlas.  It was here that myself and a bunch of individuals met, formed a small [loud] party, and made a night out of it.  We closed out two different bars; We danced, we people-watched, we laughed - it couldn't have been better scripted.  The details aren't so important, so much as the overall impression of the evening being one of renewed interest in getting out into the night life and learning to enjoy "going out" again!
  After finally arrive home after 4am to a quiet house (flatmates were out of the weekend), I got to star-gaze off my balcony, mull over the night's moments, and take a few minutes to remind myself that this trip is all about grabbing a hold of the spur-of-the-moment impulses and running with it.  In one day I managed to: have the less-than-ideal experience of walking several miles to pick up a package that wouldn't be redelivered; an afternoon of dusty bike park laps; my own personal pub crawl with people I met that evening.  For me, this Second Summer, it's all about writing a new story line, and making the most of an amazing opportunity.  I'm in a large community of similar-aged and like-minded people doing the same thing, and it is without a doubt fostering an environment which allows for endless adventure potential!

Casual Afternoon Of Racing

Crashing in a race run is never ideal.  Crashing into the underbrush comprised of prickerbushes, is also not ideal.  So, combining the two most certainly makes for an unpleansant occasion.  But, that's racing, and you take the good with the bad.  On a whole, my first international race experience was not marred by this slight excursion off track, and it was actually a great Saturday spent racing.  The riding community here is really relaxed and friendly, not to mention that all the women who ride kill it and often out-ride a strong percentage of the men!  This is definitely a sign of a healthy outdoor-sport and mountain biking community in my opinion.

From the perspective of an American racing in New Zealand, it was really different, but in a good way. It was more of a "Mates Race" atmosphere, and for $40 you certainly got your money's worth: 5 hrs of practice, up-lift shuttles, and 2 race runs.  Awards were prompt and short/to the point - less than ten minutes to cover 6 different catagories and recognize those who contributed and helped put on the event.  Take note event organziers, this is how it's done!  What's also really cool, is this is a full series here in Queenstown, and there is a race just about once a month, with plenty of other racing-like shenanigans to keep those race-inclined appeased and smiling.  

Short and Sweet Sunday update, because I have to go fix my bike, as it's a little worse for the wear after thrashing it all afternoon yesterday...

Vertigo Bikes had me sorted for a lift over to the race; bike, pre-thrashing.

No Turkey, Just Bikes

I forgot about Turkey Day, I truly did. I woke up today (Friday, the 28th - I'm 6hrs behind time-wise, but a full day ahead) to a fair few greetings and well-wishes, which left me perplexed...as I thought it was the 27th today. Nope. Straight up missed the 27th all together!
But, that's quite all right, as I managed to FaceTime a house full of family and relatives today while standing in a back ally, drinking coffee, and poaching a wifi signal. So, it was pretty much like I was there...not to mention the snap chatting that was happening on the side, which allowed me to be a part of a couple of other gatherings as well. Oh technology! Bringing us together, despite being a world apart!

Dropping in!

"Rude Rock"...

In unrelated news, I did manage to get out for some laps on a local mountain called Coronet Peak on Thursday. It wasn't super warm, and the wind was causing some trouble, but all-in-all, it was a wicked evening of speed-tucks and small hucks. Funny fact: one of the tracks we were lapping is called "Rude Rock" (or "Cock Rock" if you're a local), because there is a prominent, dick-shaped rock on an adjacent ridge line.

Tomorrow, Saturday, there is a local race in the evening which I've decided I'm going to give a whirl. Figured it would be good to try and keep the Race Edge sharp while I'm here - should be fun to get out there and mix it up with everyone just for the sake of it!

Fun For Your Eyes

If you really enjoy the photos, they are all just added in from my Instagram account, which can be viewed in full here:  (Click)

This is headline news here...

Steeper Than Steep

I have never ridden such steep terrain as I did today. Went on what I thought was going to be a nice XC ride, and it turned out to be more of a trek on foot up the rootiest, slickest double track, and then a cliff-edge traverse over to a majestic hill-top view.
But wait, we are just getting started. I should have known things were about to get beyond wild considering the hike up, but believe you me when I say I was in for a scary awakening.

Some beautiful views before descending into pure chaos.

The steeps were so steep, you usually couldn't see the chutes around the corners until you were in them. The corners were abrupt and slick. The straight bits of trail were hard to enjoy as your eyes watered for the rapid acceleration. It was chaos. I was riding on pure instinct and adrenaline.
I managed to survived the ordeal, but my bike and ankle are definitely worse for the wear. And worth noting: Kiwi trees and American tees are equally dense and hard, and contact with either should be avoided while out riding...

Proof that it all was real(ly scary).

BVT meets NZ

A week on of being here, and I finally got to ride on proper trails yesterday, and it couldn't have been more fun. We took my roommates truck up to a local spot to shuttle runs on a simple track, and while it wasn't difficult, it sure was fun - a good way to kick off the Second Summer!
Mixed in with the thrill of riding, was the nerve-wracking experience of driving down here in eNZed for the first time...everything is backward and I was so tense driving, it was like being a student driver all over again. But, I managed, and all ended well.
I also finally have all of the mountain passes and trail maps sorted out, so the real fun is on the horizon now that I'm decently settled in.

I'm slowing becoming a regular at certain eateries.  

This will probably be the only time I complain about being right next to the bike path: there was a marathon being run across the region, and I was awoken by people cheering and rattling cowbells at 7:30 this morning...that was a first. Once awake (after over sleeping of course), we had a Flatmate Day. The activities list included, story telling around the kitchen table, laughing about how the runners were getting soaked by unrelenting rain, and of course, a trip to the shopping center for some mind shenanigans and home improvements. It was a solid afternoon of bonding.
The real story of the weekend is a reunion of two friends and former coworkers on the other side of the World! All the way in from BVT (studying abroad in Dunedin here in NZ), my friend and former EMS coworker Lauren dropped into Queenstown for the weekend to visit - and to go bungee jumping. It is always wonderful to catch up with someone, but it was definitely surreal to meet up at bottom of the globe! While her stay was short-lived, it was certainly lively, with a first night out in the town (replete with heckling on the street, awkward dancing, and a little bit of judgment), and a much more mellow second night. Oddly enough though, tonight (the second night) was the night where we interacted with the local police, but fear not, bail is cheap here...I'm kidding, Lauren lost her purse and some people were nice enough hand it off to the 5-0, from whom we were able to retrieve the lost goods. But, that was not until I had sprinted 3 blocks, literally chasing the only cop car out in town, and finally shouting at a group of girls ahead to stop The Fuzz for me. The officers were quite confused initially as a long-haired male explained between gasps of airs about a lost purse, but it all worked out in the end. Just another casual Saturday night!
Tonight is also one of the first clear nights of weather I've had while down here, and the sky is just amazing. It is interesting to notice the difference in the stars of the Southern Sky, I'm hoping I can figure out how to photograph the night's sky, as the view of the heavens from my room is magnificent! Until then, here is a picture of Lauren drinking a Long Island Ice Tea out of a tea pot:

From East Coast to Far East - reunited!

Building Character

I've been Way Down Under for nearly a full week, and thus far, it's been a real mixed bag of learning experiences. The good news though, I have finally found a place to live. It is on the lake, right off the bike path, and a nice bike ride into town. Granted, the price is steep, but the space is amazing and there is a lot to be said for having privacy. My roommates are a lovely couple, both of whom are contemporaries and athletic, so it's pretty idyllic.

The view from my balcony at my new flat.  I'm losing my Mountain Man street cred living somewhere so posh...

One thing I've learned quickly: hitch-hiking is totally kosher, and you'll usually get a ride within a few cars passing by. It isn't just a fall-back plan for travel, it is almost more consistent than the public transit buses! I still need to procure some kind of motorized transportation though, as being dependent on others and/or pedal power is quite limiting; plenty of time work that out though.
No surprise, managing to eat correctly has proved to be the greatest challenge, and I think I'm still a ways away from having it all sorted out. Today's experience of food shopping in a country running on the metric system, different monetary value, and normal [read: not American] portions meant I felt like I was spending a ton of money on two bags of groceries. I'll get the hang of this eventually, I can feel it.
The day has now come to a close, and I've been forced to go out for dinner again (the gas for the grill wasn't working). I'm sitting on a bar stool typing this out on my iPhone and all I can think about is how it feels like I've been here ages already, but at the same time, it feels like Day 1 - kind of odd. I just have to remember to give myself time to fully settle in and find my stride. So, with that in mind, the next step: find a job!

Beer Is The Universal Language

I can check off, "Partying Way Down Under" off of my to-do list.

What started off as a casual visit to a flat (house) to see about a room, quickly escalated to an evening of drinking Wild Buck beer, and sharing crude stories with my new-found friends, all of whom were from the British Isles, with the exception of one North Island Kiwi and his Aussie friend.  More than half of the tenants (of 16 total) were in attendance, and it made for some hilarious tales of conquest and defeat.  Fitting that we were at a round table; it was like King Arthur's misfit Knights.  As it were, I was in the company of many of the town's bartenders and bouncers, and they were impressed to find out I was a Yank, as they all thought I was Canadian...because I'm so polite and well-mannered, of course.  

The evening wore on and we ate a bacon lasagna that my new Kiwi friend had brought along (there wasn't actually any pasta in the dish - it was excellent).  After the meal, I departed to get ready for the night ahead; I had been invited along for a wild night out - on a Sunday.  I rendezvoused a little while later with everyone downtown, and was immediately handed two different drinks.  And then another.  And then another.  And then we moved onto the next establishment, where this process was repeated.  This pattern kept up for two more stops there after, and despite a quieter night in terms of crowds, we managed to make the night a good one.  Considering I hadn't had a drink in 11 months up until Sunday, I hung on just fine.  One of the lads remarked that he didn't think I was going to make it out with them, or be able to hang through the whole night - he clearly didn't go to Uni (college) in Burlington, Vermont. 
It is Tuesday here in eNZed, and I made it through Monday just fine, following the Holy Day Party.  I even made it to the gym and Hulk'd Out for a bit.  Today is the day I try to not become destitute in a foreign country, and after seeing one very nice place already, I'm keen to see how the other two places stack up later today.  This afternoon of running around town will prove to be a "fun" challenge.  Unlike most other places I've lived or traveled, Queenstown is a little difficult to navigate, not for a lack of direction, but because it sits on the side of a mountain that climbs straight up out of the lake.  So, anywhere you go, aside from the main drag of downtown, you are ascending or descending roads that you'd expect to see Sherpas hauling gear up to make base camp somewhere near by.  The good news about that though, is one has to try dearly to stay out of shape here. 

A Lesson In Kindness

Dream Track.  Big Air, Big Views.

  Two posts in one day will not be common, but it's raining this afternoon here, and I'm bored.  Interestingly, today was quite eventful.  As Queenstown is not massive, it is easy to navigate on foot if you're willing to put in a little sweat-equity (it's super hilly/steep here, like, I-want-to-repel-down-the-street-steep).  This morning I headed out to continue familiarizing myself with the area, with the intention of walking on some wooded paths recommended to me by a local.  Within just a few minutes, I stumbled upon a part of the bike park, and into a World-class jump line, simply known as "Dream Track".  Without going on endlessly about the "stoke factor", I'll just say, the views coupled with the massive features left me grinning like a fool.  While out roaming the hills, I ran into a local guy doing some trail maintenance, and just like everyone else I'm met and spoken at length with, he was super nice, and happy to share tips and advice regarding his home.  I have been floored by people's general, genuine kindness and willingness to give sound advice.
  To further demonstrate this observation: much later in my walk, on the opposite side of town from where I'm staying, my knee started acting up, and I couldn't really walk.  I stopped into a liquor store to ask about calling a taxi.  Overhearing me talk to the cashier, a man in line offered to drive me, without even asking where I needed to go - another patron also offered once they heard where I was headed.  How amazing is that?  I can't remember the last time I witnessed something like that happen.  Maybe it's just happenstance, but I think it really just is different down here - in the best of ways possible.  And as it turns out, my driver friend, Stu, is a local fishing boat captain, who runs fishing tours right on Lake Wakatipu, and his wife runs a touring yacht, Pacific Jemm - which he pointed our in the little harbor as we drove by.

  I think being in a location that is driven by people's zeal for living a relaxed life based around outdoor fun and leisure, fosters a unique social climate.  There is a great deal of social turnaround due to the nature of people being seasonal residence, but because everyone is here on their own accord to enjoy the majesty of the land, and the opportunities available for outdoor play, it makes for a much more playful spark in people's attitudes - something you can really feel.  Work is work, of course, but thus far, even the people who have less-glamorous jobs seems to be just as pumped on being here as anyone else.  As cheesy as it sounds, there is really a strong positive vibe here, and that's something I'm very happy to have discovered!
  Sidenote of the day:  I ate at a local establishment called "Fergburger", and it was most excellent.  It is THE local eatery, and there also a bakery under the same banner next door.  They are open something like 22hrs a day.  I think that's where I'm going to live. 

Fergburger; the only place you should be eating.

Way Down Under

  I am now on the other side of the World, under Australia, on an island in the Western Pacific.  Way Down Under, here in New Zealand, I am quite in awe of the topography - it is majestic.  I will try to do the views justice with the photos I share, but they will pale in comparison to actually being here - it is difficult to capture the scale and get the full scope of the surroundings; incredible - I was certainly taken aback after 25+ hours of travel to arrive in the land famous for being the backdrop to Hobbits and Orks and realize that CGI can't even match what nature has produced here!
 Not much to share about the traveling part of getting here - it was planes, planes, and more planes, mixed with a lot of people and lots of security check points.  One of the more interesting things to happen en route,  was when I was finally in Auckland, going through security one last time to get to my domestic flight.  While inspecting my bikes, the security agent had to go process something and turned to me and said, "I'll be right back, here's my knife, go ahead and open up the other box - just don't go around on a rampage stabbing anyone or whatever..."  That was a really funny moment at 8:15am, after a 13-hour flight.  I said to her later, "I just have to say, no where else in the World would a security agent hand me a knife and just walk off like that - I'm impressed."  To which she replied, "Eh, yeah...we're not really supposed to do that, but, I trusted you enough..."  Amazing.  Welcome to New Zealand.

The view from the hotel dining area isn't too bad.

  After a very informative van ride from the airport to the hostel, I had a much-needed hot shower, some food, and then set off exploring the town.  It is a tourist-driven area, so it has a strong multi-cultureal feel.  There are all sorts of out-door adventure driven businesses and seeing people riding bikes around town, covered in dirt, or backpackers looking weary is pretty much the norm.  It isn't peak season yet, as it is still Spring time, so I can only imagine how crazy things will get once everyone is here on holiday.  I'm off to continue exploring, and I'll try to report back with something a little more exciting for the next post! 

Chasing The Sun

Everything is packed.  My whole life (sort of) is now in two boxes, a big-ass duffel bag, and an overloaded backpack.  I've kept the news low-key for the better part of four months, and it was only because I am not super into sharing the ins and outs of my life with the World - publicly, I'm a pretty private guy.  So, after nearly a decade of interest, a couple months of hard planning, and lots of ups and downs as plans were made, unmade, and remade, I am finally embarking to the other side of the globe on a new adventure, a fresh start, in the amazing place known as New Zealand.

Everyone's favorite meathead lumberjack on Halloween, just days away from the big move!

I decided that this Winter, I wanted to chase the sun, keep riding my bike, and explore an idea I've had since high school.  With no commitments to myself or anyone else, the time was right, and I knew I need to shake things up in my life.  This is not just a trip, or an extended holiday, this is a dry run.  While I am not sure of my eventual intentions, I am keen to see how I enjoy living in eNZed.  There are many reasons for all of this, but the most important one is seeking happiness and a fuller life.  I need to get out and explore, immerse myself in something new and interesting.  Change is good, and keeps one from getting stuck in a stagnant life.
This blog, used primarily for writing about my biggest passion, racing mountain bikes, will now be including tales from Way Down Under.  Many friends and family have expressed great enthusiasm about this big move, and wish to somehow be able to join me, one way or another.  While it may only be vicarious, I will try to bring those of you who arrive here, with me.  Pictures galore, and writing of course, will hopefully provide you will a brief escape from Winter's grasp, and transport you to the Southern Summer where we can share the astounding views and wonderful cultural nuances of a majestic land and warm people.

Stay tuned, the fun has just begun!
 

Rake and Bake

Fall in New England is known for its amazing colors, crisp weather, and medley of seasonal culinary delights.  For a lot of us, it is also known as the time of year when trails disappear and turn into colorful skating rinks.  As the foliage exits stage left to the ground, the trails we could clearly see and ride at exceptional pace turn into ridiculously sketchy high speed guessing games; You better know where you're going, because the ribbon of bare earth you usually follow is blanketed under every leaf ever to have been in existence, apparently. 
While the challenge of riding invisible trails becomes greater as the Fall progresses, there is a brief Golden Hour of the season where the terrain is in Summer condition, but the weather has turned to that of the Fall - temps are down, the sun is up, and you are in end-of-season-shape.  This is the moment in the season true New Englanders wait for once the mid-Summer heat and humidity has worn out its welcome.  I know I certainly got a second wind once I didn't have to consider heatstroke as a possible outcome of my daily rides.  And because of this, I found myself taking in more of the ride each time I went out. 

There are two converging trails here, I swear.

The beauty of the season is exemplified when out riding in the woods, and getting to see a whole forest change color, and the shades ebb and flow as you climb and descend through different parts of the land.  I found myself pushing harder during this Fall, but I also stopped more often and for longer,
to take in what was around me - a literal interpretation of, "Stop and smell the roses."  As the season moves further away from the warm months, and Winter is creeping in, the shorter days and less playful weather means less ride time.  It is when the headlamps are needed, layers come out, and group rides are only a handful of diehard buddies, that we know the season has really come to a close, or is at least relegated to weekend rides in the afternoons only. 
I think I've grown to appreciate the colder weather rides more, as it shows me how much I want to be out on my bike, and really earn the silly grins and grimy equipment.  To me, this isn't just a hobby to enjoy a couple days a week.  This is a lifestyle, punctuated by dedication, commitment, and drive;  We ride for the love of the sport.

Curtain Call

  If ever there is a time to finally "get it together", the last race of the season seems like a solid starting point.  Ending a lack-luster season on a high note was my main goal entering the weekend, and it was partially relieving and partially exciting to have accomplished this minor, but important goal.  2014 has been my 10th year racing.  I carried expectations of myself, but at the same time, a little wiser than years past, I made sure to be realistic with what I was aiming to do.  Training harder than ever before, adjusting to setbacks, and carrying on through the rougher parts of the summer, I think I managed to salvage what had been a pretty shitty season, results-wise.   

This was the first big drop I'd ever hit, and now a decade later, it's barely a thing.

  Racing is unpredictable and it will eat you up and spit you out without hesitation.  I've come close to throwing in the towel for good in the past, even after taking a full season hiatus in 2012.  I was still having fun flying down the mountain on my bike, but the fire for racing was flickering and not as strong as it once was; I had to regroup and "find the fun" all over again.  Even if it meant only racing the five events I deemed interesting enough to attend, losing a lot, and generally struggling to find pace, I was determined to not give up on myself and the sport I deeply care about.
  With the kind words of friends and fellow racers ringing in my ears, I got into the gate on Sunday for my last race run of the year, and I felt great.  Race jitters were waning as the clock counted down, I felt confident, and I knew I could have the run I wanted - all I needed to do was execute, and execute I did.  Across the finish line, and I received praise for a "solid time" and for being "in the mix".  I'd finished 6 seconds off of first, back in 15th, but on pace nonetheless.  One of the most tightly contested races of the year, and I'd finished right in the mix with a a well-paced, but slightly conservative run - that felt great.  Knowing I still have what it takes to race and be competitive is an excellent footnote to bring with me into the off-season.  I'm chasing the sun this Winter, so hopefully this is just a second wind coming around for another great summer of riding bikes!

Autumnal Equinox

Ah yes, feel that Autumn crisp!  Listen to the leaves crackle and swish!  Fall-time riding is upon us, and it is magnificent.  The temps are mild, the sun is still shining, and the colors are outrageous.  I used to detest this time of year because it meant I was back in school, stuck under fluorescent lights for seemingly-endless hours.  Many years, and some hard-earned freedom from academia later, I have a lovely ability to ride on my own whim and pleasure.  The recent purchase of a new bike and some actual Cross Country riding gear means my time out hammering the ups and downs are much more enjoyable.  I am in the best shape of my life and I'm am totally killing it on Strava (KOM KILLER!!!!).  

It's been a Summer and Fall of "back to basics" riding, with less of a focus on racing, and stronger emphasis on just getting out on the trails and rediscovering the love of riding just for the sake of the adventure and fun of it all.  The element of competition is still found within myself, that will never change - but suffering up climbs with your friends busting your balls, and then blasting the descents with the echos of pure bliss resounding through the foliage; the unmistakable sound of nobs clawing at the ground begging for traction, the squeal of over-burdened 6-inch rotors, and the shit-taking of the lead rider and the follower(s) - it clears the mental haze and provides clarity. 

Gone Riding; out refocusing and finding perspective. 

This is what had been missing from my life, the essence of what made me fall in love with this sport as a kid, and what fueled my desire to get outside everyday as a hyper-active teen.  As an adult, it is easy to lose or temporarily forget the zeal for riding through the mundane routine called work (or whatever other obligations might be blocking one's path).  To reignite and further stoke the flame, it took lamaze-esque breathing techniques on climbs, tunnel vision on recovery segments, and the Battle of Endor effects of the burred downhills to realign my focus.  I needed to be reminded of what I had been missing.  Through pounds shed, personal bests on Strava, and the camaraderie of my buddies on evening rides, I got back to my roots and found a rejuvenated passion for my one most-favorite activity, riding my bike in the woods. 

Ender Sender

That's it , that's all - the 2014 World Cup Circus has just put on it's final show for the year, and what a spectacular event it was, madness right down to the last rider.  While the main show may be lights-out for the season, there is plenty of calendar space left to turn the cranks and drift some corners.  Take a moment to revel in the awesomeness that is top tier racing, then go out for a ride with your buds!  Here are a couple of my favorite shots I took as the Windham WC, just because:

Deflated

  Hard work does not great success make; Putting in the extra effort towards a goal is just a way of trying to sway the odds on a gamble you are about to make.  When it comes to training for physical endeavors, such as racing downhill mountain bikes, it is all just about better preparing oneself for being able to adapt to unknown variable in a more constructive manner.  After methodically preparing the bike and the rest of the race gear, there are still many variables to account for, namely, weather, changes in the track from use, and that "X-Factor" that is Racing - when that timer counts down, all bets are off and it becomes a game of chicken between mind and body.
  This weekend at a test event for the upcoming American round of the World Cup, I had addressed as many of the variables as possible, and it all came down to the final act of the weekend: pedaling out of the gate and setting out on my race run.  All in all, it was a great run.  I was not a passenger, I put forth greater effort than in practice, and my internal game of chicken was going well.  I managed to finish my run, which is always the goal, but the one issue I encountered halted my hopes of having a competitive time; a flat tire.  What a royal bummer.  Crashing sucks, riding like a little bitch sucks, but mechanicals are just about the lamest way to lose a race...my tire deflated and I lost - lame as fuck.  It's like having the condom break; all that lead up and effort, just to be let down by a rubber tube. 

Chasing the rabbit in practice. 

  Thankfully, the silver lining to the weekend was beautiful weather, a manly track, and some seriously fun riding.  But, the "what if" factor is always a hard pill to swallow, and mulling over the run and incident never amounts to answers or a wholesome feeling.  You just have to take it, chalk it up to, "That's racing", and get back to prepping for the next event.  These are the growing pains of going pro - mistakes no longer just make for a longer race tale, they make for a much, much lower down
number on the results sheet and a downcast post-race, goggle-hidden face.  Racing is about resilience.  This is just another feather in the cap for experience, and there is probably a lesson to be learned in there somewhere.  So, time to patch that tube, and get back out on the hill to stay sharp, and keep the intensity up for the next round.

Whistle Blower

I am here to address a growing concern of mine, highlighted by some events this weekend at the ESC race at Killington:


Where are all the course marshals?


In the earlier years of racing, at every single race, from Mt Snow to Mtn Creek, there were marshals [volunteers] track side with whistles and radios - both on Saturday and Sunday. Up until 2012 (the year I took off from racing), there was a steady decline in their presence, though they were still scattered along the course. But now, I don't see anyone out there who would be able to aid me in a time of crisis or concern, and this is not acceptable.

The sounds of whistles and the crackle of radios was as common place as bird songs out on the hill, but now, all is quiet, and this is cause for alarm. After noticing the lack of marshals in 2013 and thus far in 2014, I am bringing this forward in an attempt to make this issue heard. After hearing of an incident at Killington just this weekend, a severe situation in which a course hold and class rerun was instituted, I was shocked to hear that there were only a couple medics there to attend to the rider, and it was up to the spectators and a racer to call a halt to the race.

Knowing the track ahead is clear is paramount for fast riding.

Not only is this unacceptable for race day, but this is also an issue during the two days of practice on Friday and Saturday.
With mixed categories sharing one track, making sure that the track is clear for riding should be top priority. With Cat 2/3 racers sharing one ribbon of dirt with Cat1 and Pro riders, there is going to be a lot of discrepancy in ability and race etiquette. Marshals are there to regulate traffic, impose rules, provide guidance, and above all, make sure rider safety is established. I have been hearing too many pit-chats about riders rounding blind turns or approaching jumps/drops/fast/technical sections to find a rider down unannounced, or simply not being informed about an upcoming incident on track, despite multiple by-standers and/or other stopped riders.

I understand that organizing a race is no cake walk, but, more needs to be done about on-track safety in regards to marshaling. I can't think of any other sport similar to ours that doesn't have track-side support at regular intervals for all days of practice and race days. After ten years of racing, I have come to expect certain levels of support at races. I can understand a glitch in timing; I get that delays happen. There is no excuse though for leaving and entire (or large sections of) track unattended when 200+ people are out on course pushing the limits of mind, body, and engineering.

If it is a matter of just getting a headcount, all is takes is asking spectators to volunteer their time while out on track to aid in rider safety and course regulation. Compensate them with a bagged lunch and tshirt or something of the like. This was standard procedure for countless years at Mtn Creek, Platty, and Mt Snow - I know because my mom and dad were always volunteer course marshals. There are plenty of WAGs and BAHs who would be game to have a radio, whistle, food, and tshirt while they watch there significant other fly by every 20minutes. It also helps build a sense of community and camaraderie amongst the racers and fans.

My hopes for this piece are two-fold:
1. Just get marshals out there with whistles and radios.
2. Getting people, riders and spectators alike, to lookout for one another out there.

Thanks for reading and being a part of this conversation. If you wish to share some constructive thoughts, constructive ideas, constructive concerns, or anything else that is relevant, please positively add to the conversation.

It's New, Better Get It Dirty...

  I can't recall the last time I was so excited to see a cardboard box; there it lay, cockeyed against the steps of my front door, my new race frame!  The cargo of this box is what drives me to eat my veggies, finish my work ahead of time, and get out of bed early on the weekends.  So, to finally receive this hotly awaited package was a moment of jubilation in my day - to say the least.  I cancelled my plans for the rest of the day and set up shop in the garage with my myriad of tools and assorted parts that needed to be mounted up.  A few mods later, and one trip down to the LBS and I was out and pedaling around the driveway!
  I would have driven down to the local spot the moment the last bolt was tightened, but a massive thunderstorm rolled through and let loose nearly 2 inches of rain out of the sky.  I would have been remiss if I hadn't at least put the tires to some dirt, so I endured getting solidly soaked for the sake of some cutties on the front lawn - no deluge will stop me from giving my new steed the requisite post-build parking lot test!  With the formalities addressed, I racked the new rig, and took my soggy self inside to think about all the sweet lines I was going to savage on this vessel of raditude.

Where the magic happens...

  Fast-forward 18 hours and we're pedaling to the trail head, in massive humidity, no water, and zero fucks given - it's Thursday, and the boys and I want to get in some quick evening laps, and I have a new bike to shake down!  After the brief ascent to the inaugural track for DH'er, and the place I'm here to put a hurt on, I make sure to click on Strava, because I'm pretty sure a ride doesn't count unless it's being timed and KOMs are at stake...but I digress:  I flew.  The ground couldn't keep up with me.  The run felt effortless in spite of my best efforts to dive into the apex several times, instead of through it, and generally being a hooligan too excited to really focus on the task at hand.
  At the end of the brief session in the woods with the homies, my conclusion about my new investment was thus:  two thumbs up; gold star; top marks.  As I get more saddle time in, we shall see how the full-susser susses out on a whole, but in the mean time, I am going to revel in the sweet drift I held, the off-line encounter with some rocks, and the general excellent functioning of the well-designed metal I will be straddling at a race near you.  Author's note:  it wheelies like nobody's business.  This is the hallmark of a great bike and literally the only thing I grade bikes on.  A bike that wheelies well is a sure sign of a bike you ought to own as well. 

Bro or Pro?

  The much quested for and highly coveted "Bro Deal" is what makes this sport go 'round.  Anyone who is worth their salt on facebook or instagram, and can toss a half-hearted whip off a trail undulation is rocking the semi-sponsored affirmation of their skills via a hearty discount on all things "bike".  I'll be honest, I've tapped the Bro Deal tree to reap the benefits of rad equipment at a considerable mark down, and I am pleased with that, as I couldn't afford the cost otherwise.  However, there is comes a time when one has to decide whether or not the deal is in ones favor.  What do I mean?  Just because you pay for stuff, doesn't mean you're not Pro.  So, w

No Bro Deals in this picture.

hat I'm asking is:  what's the ROI of this relationship?  Sure, discounted goods are much appreciated, but you are providing all sorts of free marketing and PR work for your bro, on your time, at the your own cost.  Sure, it feels nice to be a part of something you believe in, and if you are sporting a brand with killer branding, then you by proxy seem pretty badass too.  But again, is this worth it?
  I say, unless you are a weekend warrior or someone who has the ability to pay for things without triple-checking your bank account, then you are probably in the chump boat.  You are deemed worthy enough by your bro to represent his brand, and do it well enough that he (or she, but this is the bike world and "she" isn't as common) is willing to not make full-margin on Product X because he knows that his investment will pay back immeasurably thanks to your stoke-factor on Product X.  You will go ejaculate all over any available social media surfaces you can log into or any quasi-relevant forum thread that decides to not kick you off based on your borderline obsessive need to espouse praise, opinions, and your feelings about Product X...at no cost to your bro, and he is fired up about that because broad-stroke advertising on that kind of level is fucking expensive.

  Now, I know as well as anyone that without the bro deal, many of us would not have been able to make our way into this sport, especially us racers who always seem to be in the red.  Being bros is cool, but being appreciated and recognized for your work ethic, dedication, and sweat equity is wayyyy more legitimate (and cooler).  High fives and hell yeahs might help with your self-esteem, but establishing meaningful and professional relationships in the industry is a much more effective way of step-stoning your way up and onto bigger things (if that's your M.O.).  While you may feel like you get preferential treatment, just measure your "Bro Worth" with this simple comparison: do you get the same stock stickers with your purchases, or do you get nifty custom bits with a personal touch? 

They Didn't Give Me A Tracking Number

I've been checking my front door obsessively everyday for the past two days.  I hate waiting in general, but sweet bbq sauce do I get impatient waiting for a package to arrive.  This particular package is of great importance and has been a constant source of excited hand motions for the past week.  It's been causing serious strain and anxiety as my adrenaline soaked brain waits for the UPS man to show up and present me with my new steed.  It's new bike time!  And that is the best time, only rivaled by food time and bed time. 
The selection precess that I underwent was vigorous and arduous.  I'm not good with numbers, and that's all I had to go on when making this difficult choice.  What to get, what to get?  The options were nearly overwhelming, what with different suspension layouts, availability, price, fit...ugh, it was like trying on a prom dress, I mean shoes...fivetens...whatever.  I spent hours pouring over charts, reviews, pictures, all seemingly to no avail.  Frustrated, I wracked my brain, searching for options I hadn't considered or pursued - and then it clicked, and then I clicked, over to the webpage of the manufacturer I had been neglecting to remember; winner winner chicken dinner.  And just that, I'd found the one.
After that, the stress of finding a suitable piece of engineering turned into the waiting game - my least favorite of games.  And now I sit here, still waiting.  I would have come totally unhinged at this point if it weren't for a couple other key components I am also waiting to have delivered.  There is no point to this tale, no moral, no lesson learned.  I am just trying to find a constructive way to pass the time, while I continue to wait...

I also purchased new camo crocs. I had to ask the sales clerk to check out back and see if they had them in stock. No regrets. 

Off To The Races!

  I take myself as seriously as the average 'Merican takes any and all warning labels: they are to be mocked, criticized, peeled off, and stuck to the next nearest surface that said label will stick.  I like me, it's just more amusing to be self-deprecating and highlight the ridiculous nature of [my] life and everything else in the near vicinity.  Thanks to this twisted view of things, I am not bothered by trivial instances like, let's say, almost finishing DFL at the first race of the season.  In fact, if I'm honest, I am quite pleased with how things went.  Granted, the time score shows what might be read as a god-awful, sad, uncompetitive result...that's not incorrect, I'm just saying that, those numbers aside, it was a great weekend.
  It's about having fun, and my run was fun.  A couple folks were even kind enough to praise the speed at which I rode the section where they were spectating - a couple moments of brilliance is more than I can ask for considering I spent six months living on Hoth in the Adirondacks trying to not succumb to the cold like Jack in The Shining.  Despite my time score indication that I may or may not have tried to ride down the course in reverse, I hit my lines, caught some air, and didn't crash - the latter of the trio being the most important of the lot; getting down is Step 1, going competitively quick is Step 2.

C: Ryan Benton 

  I'm not out to prove anything to anyone but myself.  This sport is very self-centered, in the sense that it is about how well I perform, and that's that.  If I feel I've done well, then that's good enough!  If I didn't finish well, that just means I have to try harder next time.  Simple stuff, no bitchin'.  In spite of my personality and energy levels, when it comes to this race season, I'm trying out the "slow burn" technique: give myself some time to warm into things, and then really turn up the heat.  This is slightly problematic for the opening races of '14 though, as they are legitimately mini WC races, with 15-ish dudes who have put their Int'l UCI license to actual use, not just wasting $175 to have "ELITE" on their USAC license like I have so far done since '09.  BUT, that has created a goal to aim for on my "To Do List" (in due time).
  All in all, it was a stupendous weekend of mud and rain, and then sun and dirt.  Hanging out with all the my summer friends, and getting to see some of my former competition sporting much fancier digs and hard-earned accolades.  The community of dirty people on sprung bikes is where many of favorite memories were fostered and they continue to provide endless hilarity and entertainment.  New friends were made/initiated, old friends reacquainted/reunited, and at the end of it all, we left with smiles knowing we'll get to do it all again in five days time.  See ya at the next one! 

The Final Countdown

  This up-coming weekend is the first race of the year, and I already have butterflies.  It's been a long winter, and with the weather finally feeling like Spring-come-Summer, the anticipation is only heightened further.  Months of training, hours of bike prep and trail testing, it all culminates with the tell-tale, "BEEP, BEEP, BEEEEEEEP" of the starter and the pedals out of the gate.  It will be exciting to be back in the mix once again and see who the contenders are for 2014.  The calendar is filled with big, fast tracks, and everyone is jonesing to get on with it already!

  The traveling circus will once again meander around the North East, from mountain resort to mountain resort, filling the parking lots with EZ-Ups and the sounds of freehubs buzzing.  Highfives and hell-yeahs await as friends are reunited once again for the summer shenanigans.  There will surely be upsets, moments of elation, and copious amounts of speed-derived smiles.   We all gather each summer in pursuit of fun and thrills, and to best our friends on the track with the fastest time.  There can only be one winner each weekend, but at the end of the day, we all are in it for the love of it.
Race season is a-knockin', and we are all ready to answer the door.  It's time to see who put in the work over the winter, or who is willing to hang it out the farthest.  It's a battle against the clock, and we wouldn't have it any other way.  Here's to another summer of playing in the dirt.

The Art Of Losing

  The last race win I had was in 2008.  I was still racing Juniors and the venue was the first Windham National.  With a 2:56 flat, I won and would have placed 4th in the pro category.  Since turning Pro, the results sheet has always been a source for thoughts of, "Lots of room for improvement" - to be lighthearted about it.  I've had top 5's in Pro, which is cool I suppose, but no one races to lose.  Being realistic is important in cases of large National or International races, but local races...I should definitely have been doing a little better.  Granted, there were external factors in my personal life that hindered my ability to perform at my best, but a racer always has an excuse for poor results.
  For the past 5 years (I took 2012 off because of my job at the time), I have been been a student in the art of losing, graciously riding back to the pits one lackluster run after another, watching my friends and fellow competitors have highly successful races and seasons, with not a whole lot to show for my efforts.  We all are in it for the fun of it, but losing isn't fun, so there are times when it becomes more of a chore than a hobby.  But, with a long off season, a lot of personal drive, and a new-found love for iron, training is winding down and the new race season is nearly here.
  It is important to start the new season off in a positive manner, which is sometimes easier said than done.  I think for 2014 I'm doing fair job of it though, as I've actually won something bike-related, the first [unofficial] race of the year: our annual team event.  While the racing is as grassroots as it gets, and it is just another day out with the crew, racing is always racing, and a win is always a win.  It felt good, I have to say.  To be the best on the day is always a nice boost, and it was a good soft-opening to test out if and how all the winter training paid off.
 
There was no fan fair, there wasn't even a podium picture; just a slip of paper and a quick announcement of the final placings for the day.  The understated nature of the event is its greatest appeal without a doubt.  It's a simple format: Four trails; four races; and a grand timed total like rally racing.  Being the top finisher on the day of an event like that is just as rewarding as any other win - I didn't crash across the finish line of the first run trying for anything but a win.  I proved to myself that I can train, I can learn, and I can win.  And that personal validation is exactly the kind of progress needed to stoke the fire for the real deal.