A tale of four elements

This weekend we encountered all four states of matter identified by the ancient Greeks. Unfortunately we failed to come across an element overlooked by sun-scorched Athenians – snow.

Water

Me looking out over the atmospheric
lake atmospherically

On Friday night we drove up to the town/village/collection of hostels known as National Park, which was to be our gateway to the ski fields of Mount Ruapehu. Dinner that evening was some speedy butter chicken from an improbably remote Indian, since the local pizza place had “run out of pizzas”.

Unfortunately, the morning brought rain, high winds and a message from the slopes to say that skiing was a no-go. Undeterred, we set out for a stroll round Lake Rotopounamu, rewarded for our bravery with a brief flash of sunlight. We then headed into Turangi, hiring bikes for an off-road exploration of the River Tongariro. A giant burger at the Turangi Tavern helped us regain some calories, before we went to rest our legs in the ‘magical waters’ of Tokaanu thermal pools.

Smug, before I read the sign

Geothermal activity heats patches of surface water in the Turangi area, which made a nice change from the cold drizzle that had threatened us intermittently all day. We hired a private pool to avoid our burger-bloated bellies scaring small children, and I plunged in first to test the waters. Dora cautiously warned me not to submerge my head, but I saw this as a challenge and ducked briefly beneath the steaming pool.

Emerging, I was greeted by a sign warning that submerging one’s head carried a small risk of amoebic meningitis, also known as the "brain-eating amoeba" (thanks Wikipedia). This affliction is fatal is about 99% of cases, but thankfully very rare.  Dora, on the other hand, has definitely contracted a severe strain of the ‘I told you so’ virus, from which she may never recover.

Earth

We finished off the day with some indoor rock (a.k.a. earth) climbing in National Park, before drinks and food at the town bar with the newly arrived Rich and Lucy, and their friends Lauren and Shon who'd driven down from Auckland. Several beer jugs, wine carafes and story-swaps later we stumbled home. I fell in a puddle.

A gap in the weather on our
drive home

Fire

After a hangover-banishing brunch at the Station Café (imaginatively located in the old railway station) with the crew, we meandered our way back to Wellington. Wind had again closed the slopes, so we’d have to wait until later in the winter before impressing Mount Ruapehu with our parallel turns.

On the way south we stopped off at the National Army Museum, which covered the explosion-ridden (a.k.a. fiery) history of the New Zealand Army, from the Boer War to recent U.N. peacekeeping missions. Dora kept an eye out for signs of her Granddad, who was personal assistant to General Freyberg, head of New Zealand’s forces in WWII. 

Wind

The rest of our journey was long and uneventful, although high winds pushed our little car around a bit as it shot down Highway 1.

Next week: the New Zealand film festival, I start a new job and Dora confesses her addiction to Wilderness magazine (https://www.wildernessmag.co.nz/) 

The Food Blog: an interlude

Dear fans,

I'm back on editing duty this week and though I knowww you love reading about each weekend's football matches (I played, we won, Rog played, they drew) - we do strive for variety. So here is a post from the food blog I don't have the gall or photography skills to write. Plus it's a saturated market.

The brunch pan

This weekend was a sunny stunner, turning the flat from ice box to greenhouse and allowing lengthy cooking of brunch on both days. It really highlighted the importance of a brunch pan. If you've not yet got one of these, the essential features are: smaller than a normal frying pan and really good non-stick quality. Because, after all, who fries rashers and rashers of bacon and three fried eggs anymore? Saucepan for the poachies, toaster for the whole grain muffins, brunch pan for the spinach/button mushrooms. It's also the perfect size for omelette for one!

The crowd-pleaser social meal

The tradition of home-made pizzas in our household goes way back to the early years in London, to the famous Tooley St flat. American Ben brought round his maple-glazed sausages and mum's pizza dough recipe and Becky, Aditi and I would all pitch in with assorted toppings (anchovies banned). We didn't actually know American Ben very well and the pizza-making turned out to be a great ice-breaker. You can't beat this for a great social evening with friends! Use Jamie Oliver's dough recipe, which is almost as good as American Ben's mum's, but make it in a bowl rather than on the bench-top (you're not Jamie Oliver).

The winter warmer

It's been blowing a southerly in Wellington and even a long black from Frank's hasn't eased the chill. Luckily, Countdown has venison mince on offer! I crafted the meatballs on the spur on the moment because the venison was that sticky, and accompanied them with speedy braised red cabbage (vinegar and red wine) and rice. A lone leftover brunch egg went on top.

I'm really loving this photo because the orange egg yolk ties the winter food to the winter surroundings - the orange blanket in the background. It would be great to learn more about photographing venison, if anyone has any tips?

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In real news, Roger reports that he's been going on some nice lunchtime runs up hills and I've joined a choir that rehearses in St Andrew's on the Terrace. This weekend we're going skiing so next week Roger will entertain you with white GoPro footage. Until then!

Happy birthday, less happy refereeing, a party, a painful bike ride and some scary Pokemon

Saturday morning brought pancakes and handfuls of presents and cards for my birthday, the latter made abundant by Dora’s hiding of my mail for the past few weeks! A compass, eye mask, some Lululemon shorts and a casual checked shirt later, I set off for football. 

A sample of the costumes

The match is probably best described as a personal failure and team victory. I missed a sitter around the 6-yard box area, and during my 20 minutes as a volunteer referee managed to cost us a goal by overlooking a blatant offside by the opposition. However, we won 6-1, so there were no hard feelings as we headed to the mid-season party.

With Dora unofficial vice pres of the organising committee, the Wellington United ‘Euro 2016’ bonanza was always going to be fun. Several rounds of beer pong, break dancing, and cheap beers later we headed home, waking to sore heads the next day. I had unwisely arranged to cycle up and down Makara Peak with Richard, but luckily had a new Go Pro to distract me as we made the most of some winter sun.

Beautiful Mt. Victoria,
perfect for a romantic walk...

... until a Pokemon attacks!

Later in the afternoon Dora I recovered further, walking back from Mt. Victoria. On the way back we realised that Wellington has been infected with the latest craze, Pokemon Go, a smartphone-based game that adds a layer of strange creatures on top of your actual surroundings. At least the half the people we saw were peering into their phones swiping furiously at fictional things, blissfully unaware of the very non-fictional vehicles narrowly avoiding them.

We capped off our recovery with an all-you-can-eat Christmas-themed buffet at the James Cook hotel opposite our flat (mid-winter brings out the Yuletide vibes, including terrible Christmas music in Dora's office). Future guests can expect to be sent to the buffet when we tire of cooking!

Dora's 7th course: mince pie, xmas pud and mini-pav!

Swimming, sorting, strolling and shooting

With Roger taking a break from running after his half marathon success and me off football with a out-of-joint big toe, we turned to an evening walk up Mount Victoria to stave off apartment fever. Apart from the fear of being mown down and/or blinded by hordes of night-mountain-bikers, it was a pleasant climb to view the lights of Wellington, and on the descent we remembered the existence of the Mt Vic Chippery and our 'Entertainment Book' discounts app. 2 hoki, 1 fancy batter and 1 kumara chips later, we waddled home.

Roger had his first swimming lesson on Thursday, where he discovered he swims entirely with his arms. Luckily he has four more sessions to utilise the legs that, let's not forget, were voted "best legs" in Year 12 at Penglais School. I signed up to free yoga and rock climbing at work, as part of our latest Health & Safety initiative.

It was back to summer times on Friday - we were out of work and stopping at pedestrian crossings on SH1 before you could say "plans for the weekend?" Destination: the Arbon farm, Pohangina, to see my aunt Helen and cousin Richard, and meet his wife Chanelle at last. Richard and Chanelle live in Darwin so it was a rare opportunity.

On arrival Richard and Chanelle were still at the cinema, so we settled down in front of the fire with red wine. Around 15 minutes after they got back, having agreed what a good film Hunt for the Wilderpeople is, we were heading out into the night on a possum shoot. Unfortunately the safety briefing must have been too long because the possums weren't hanging around to be shot, even when we scrambled up the steep hills of the farm to get to them. [NB New Zealand possums, unlike their cute Aussie cousins, are essentially rodents here and eat native birds eggs, small children, etc. So there is no moral concern (unless you are a Jain) in shooting them.]

Following a brilliant night's sleep we all set to clearing out a shed on the farm, Roger and I enjoying driving the four wheeler (GB: quadbike) with a trailer, both forwards (me) and in reverse (Roger). Richard enjoyed strimming a path for the motorbike and working out which bit of the farm he'd concrete next. Chanelle and I also had some practice being sheep dogs when three sheep escaped up a hill in all the excitement.

In the late afternoon we set out on the Fern walk (you may recall this from our short practice trail run in the summer), against the clock and the DOC timing of 3-4 hours. We did it in 1hr30 just in time to beat the dark. Uncharacteristically for winter, Richard had worn boots on the walk, and had a blister. He went back to bare feet, gumboots or croc-like sandals after that!

Possum shooting round two after another chilled dinner, with much more success! Which means one in the bag and several more seen and shot at. Perhaps the safety briefing had quelled trigger-happy tendencies or perhaps we were just enjoying the chase (also Richard missed one which almost fell on his head; I had a clear shot too but decided, health and safety top of mind, that Richard's head was probably a bit close).

The Arbon indoor cinema showed Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire later that evening, which is actually quite good because they have to fit so much into one film you don't notice the adolescent acting difficulties.

Next morning we struck out into the cloud-laden Ruahines. Though the promised cloud lifting/sinking scenario never happened, we all had personal achievements: Richard got to point out the short dense alpine vegetation called leatherwood that he'd promised Chanelle; Helen got a headstart back to get the tea on; Roger located where we were on a topographical map on his phone; Chanelle continued her unlimited good humour and patience with us all; and I persuaded everyone that maybe 22km (there and back to an A-frame hut) was a little too much for a casual walk and that turning around having not reached "a point" did not constitute a lack of achievement.

Back in the kitchen we sat round the little wood burner with hot pies and hot chocolate feeling very warm and very pleased with ourselves. Roger and Richard set up some targets to shoot at, while Chanelle and I played cards in front of the fire. Rural 1950s bliss finally ended after an early dinner as we headed back to the big smoke.