Flying NZ

The Remarkables by sunset

So it's been a while, but eventually I found my way back into the skies again.

New Zealand has been one of those places where it's so difficult to fit everything in, and I've been looking at my wing sat in the corner of my room for the last 4 months wondering when I'd get airborne again. You know that when you haven't done something you enjoy for a long time, you forget the enjoyment it brings you. Paragliding had become a little like that for me... I was also a little scared. After such a long time, would I remember what to do?? Is that really a good idea when you're running off the side of a mountain?!

Eventually the weather turned super calm and there was very little wind. My knee hurt too much to run, bike or climb and I had sold my creek boat. I decided it was time to fly again. Near to where I live there is a ski hill called Coronet Peak, from which you can fly, and there's even a convenient patch of grass which acts as a landing zone for a variety of air based activities. I caonvinced my friend Tim to drive my van back to the bottom, laid out my wing, fastened myself into my harness, hooked the wing up the harness and ran off the side of the mountain one evening after work. Luckily I did everything right... and I loved flying again!

I repeated this the following day.

The next day I rested.

The following day, whilst still at work I got a text from a paragliding friend called Ray. I hadn't managed to get up in the air with him yet, despite various attempts. This time I thought it would be the same - he had invited me flying whilst I was still at work. The next text asked if I wanted to get in a chopper after work, fly up to the top of the local big peaks, the Remarkables, in a helicopter and fly off... I had my wing and harness in the van. I was in! I spent the rest of the day at work super excited, to say the least.

The chopper flight next to the cliffs

Stoked to be on the top

I met a bunch of folk at the heli field, it's very unusual for the conditions to be stable enough to allow for evening flights off the Remarks (it has to be in the evening because it is in the flight path for the airport here!). There were in fact 36 paragliders all ready to go. I was in the second group to get taken up, and the heli flight itself was exciting enough, pretty much straight up the sheer sides of the Remarks! When we landed I was blown away by the beauty. When I saw the take-off, I was blown away by my nerves. A rocky slope of 50 yards, then 2000m of oblivion, all in a gully with rocks either side. We had to wait an hour or so for the rest of the group to get dropped and then, as the sun began it's slow dip into the horizon we began to take-off.

Ready to go

The take-off... gulp.

The waiting was terrible. There was lots of happy and funny banter, which I took part in, but inside I was nervous to the core. I'd only been back in the harness a couple of days! People headed out, most getting good take-offs, and only a few false starts. Then it was my turn... I laid out, lined up and ran off the edge.... and soared into the air!! The oblivion turned into a floating playground. I played around the cliffs for a while, soaring back and forth accross the butresses of stone and pillars of sharp rock. One my favorites is taking yourself near to the edge of steep ridges and skimming over them out into the open air the other side. The sense of scale is breath-taking. After a while I noticed the sunset was stunning and I floated away from the Remarks to get some pictures. Hanging in the sky with my camera as the sun set, I was blissfully happy, underneath me was the beautiful landscape I had been a part of, working and playing in for the last few months. Here I was, gliding above it, in all it's glory as the sun-set below the jagged horizon. I thought I was getting a bit low and so I made for the landing, a big field, quite a distance away (10kms). I arrived a lot higher than I had imagined at maybe 500m which gave me some time to play. As the darkness drew in I was spiralling and swinging under my wing, the exhilaration and G-forces bringing a grin to my face. To top it all I had a lovely landing. What a perfect way to spend an evening after work. Even today, the day after, I still find myself smirking that smug smirk of satisfaction at enjoyment beyond the norm.

The lines that held me in the setting sky

Not a bad view for an evening after work

Some random pics from NZ

Here's some various pictures of various favorite activities and views out here.

Nice view down lake Wakatipu near the local bouldering spot, Janrdine's.

Colin throwing down at the local wave on the Dog-Leg section of the Kawarau.

Funny faces at the Citroen Race on the Kawarau.

Bouldering my favorite route at Jardine's.

Hanging around at Elephant Roacks, near Duntroon.

Motatapu

This was clearly one of those strange ideas that get into your head. In this case it was put there by Jenny, but some of my miss-firing neurones took it on as a "good idea". She had suggested that we run the Motatapu mountain marathon, a full length marathon passing through the mountains of South Island. I agreed to do it.

Quite where this confidence that I could run a marathon, let alone a cross-country marathon which passes over 800m, came from, I do not know. Although I had been fit enough to compete in an adventure race in Edinburgh before I left, Nepal hadn't done my fitness or confidence much encouragement. My knees hadn't stood up to climbing mountains, my steady diet of 'as much as possible', and my paragliders training cigarettes were not a promising start!

Things were a little different here in NZ. I managed to get running again, and I was working outdoors. However the work also meant more money and more play, which in turn made me consume more alcohol at the weekends! I stuck to my rough training regime of a run once in a while for the first couple of months, and tried to eat well. It all took a knock when Jenny and I ran up the Routeburn to the 2nd hut. On the way back down I pushed it a bit hard and my knee 'went'. I'm still not really sure what it is exactly, some failure in my lateral ligaments, but it basically means I lose all power in the knee, and it hurts a lot to move. This didn't look good. I stopped running for a few weeks. With about a month to go till the race, I tested it out again, and it survived. So for the next few weeks Jenny and I worked our way up to a 30km full mountain run. We felt okay, and my knee felt pretty solid. I was running 3 times a week until the final few days when I rested up.

The day before race day I was allowed off work to rest up. I bought a couple of last minute items and generally ate a lot and lay about a lot. Nerves also began to creep in... I had set myself the target of at least beating last years average male time of 4hrs and 25mins, secretly I wanted to get below 4 hrs. I must have packed and re-packed my race bag about 20 times. Eventually it was time to pick Jenny up and drive through to Wanaka, where the race would begin at 8am the following morning. Anj, a friend of ours had generously donated beds to our cause in her home in Wanaka. Unfortunately, and I have already apologised, I do not think me and Jenny made the best conversationalists, our minds finding themselves somewhat pre-occupied.

A fitful sleep gave rise to pitch black alarm beeping it's morning mahem next to my ear. 5:45am, not an hour I'm ever that pleased to see. Both me and Jenny groaned our way awake and got ourselves together. Forcing down a reasonable breakfast and creating the energy drinks to go in the camel-backs which would sustain us through the day, we eventually threw our stuff in the van. It was bloody freezing, let's just say that lycra tights and small shorts did not keep the vitals cosy. We began the drive to the start alone in the cold morning air. Within a few minutes on the road out of town, a convoy materialised around us. Red lights weaving their way towards our first goal, the start-line.

Once directed to the parking spot, listening to a final tune from my iPod, and we gathered our things together. I had a spare bag of clothes to send to the finish - my van would remain in Wanaka, and I wasn't going to run back and get it! We joined the other nervous folk in the line waiting for the bus to the actual start-line, a little further up into the mountains. There were a couple of Kiwis from Invercargill, who made plenty of jokes, and an Irish guy who was looking to get a similar time to myself. We had to wait a while for the bus to pick us up, the sky lightening the whole time, for about 20 mins, but soon we were on our way.

The sunrise was in full swing at the start-line as we picked up our transponders (personal timing gadgets you attach to your shoe) and the stunning mountains were revealed. Rolling, green hills, occasionally climbing and tapering to rocky summits which enclosed the lush Motatapu valley we would be running up. A little behind schedule the gun went, and the 700+ runners sweating anticipation took off.

Jen and I all kitted up and ready to go.

The run itself I found a very personal and strange thing. I found that although I chatted to the folk around me a fair amount, I did not stay with anyone for long and existed mostly within my own eyes and head. I soaked in the scenery rolling past and focused on the rocky path ahead. For the first 30kms it wears relentlessly upwards, torturing you with undulations of steep ascents, often followed by shorter, but equally as steep descents. I was however making good time. The first 20kms rolled past within 1.5 hrs and I was feeling okay considering. The next few kilometres were my undoing as my knee began to twinge, and by 30kms was absulute agony. Stopping me to a walking pace and forcing me to knock back Ibruprofen, I was an angry man, my strongest part, the downhill, would be an agonising slog. I managed a limping half-run which somehow got me downhill, my emotions in tatters, exhaustion and pain mingling with the huge rush of endorphins to leave me realing in the final few kilometres. Although you cross numerous streams through the earlier part of the run, the final 2km takes you through the Arrow River around 7 times. Running thigh deep, and freezing in from the recent snow-fall, this was absolute agony for me. Cramps rippled through me. At this point you're in public land again and people began to line the track, urging you to the finish. I upped my pace to a loping run, and with a grin spied the finishing line. Hearing the announcer calling my name I limped through the finish, a minute or so between other competitors, and so mostly alone. I had managed to get below last years average, with 4hrs and 19mins. I was just happy it had finished! Making my way to the side of the track, I waited for Jenny to appear. Just before the 5 hrs came up she appeared and the crowd clapped and cheared her sprint finish to the line. Colin had also appeared alongside me a few minutes before Jenny crossed the line, so we greated her with a big hug. We then got ourselves a nice, cold glass of beer! Let's just say that for the rest of the day, I ate, I drank and I slept. Today my knees hurt, but the body is still willing. I think I might try another, next time some physio for the knee will get me past that 4 hr mark, but I'll just have to prove that.

The start



Pretty stunning running!

Last couple of km to go. Ouch.

Go on! Jen charging the finish.