Dirt, Mud and Darkness

As I sit here with my morning cup of green tea in hand, I find my mind reeling with the events of the past 24hrs. The bruised pain emitting from the tips of my fingers as I type is only a slight reminder of the work involved yesterday in my garden.

It all started with a cloudy morning and a great gust of motivation to get my garden beds sorted for my first round of planting in the next few weeks. What started as a simply job of getting access to the camp truck and trailer, turned into a full day montage of dirt, dirt and more dirt. Waking up early, I marched myself over to the woodshed to fill the trailer with what will hopefully be the last lot of wood before the warmth of spring reaches my bones. I then gratefully accepted Duncan's help to back the trailer up to my garage - saving me nearly an hour of trying to move it myself.

After sorting the wood and dumping off a full load of random branches and rubbish that had piled up in my yard, it was time. Time to pull out the massive prickly plants in my front flower beds otherwise known as cabbage trees. I'm told they're native plants. I don't really care - they've been bloody well annoying me since the day I moved in as they have overtaken my flowerbeds and are far to big to have ever been planted there anyway. They had to go.

Assessing the situation, I figured it would take me an hour - 2 max to pull out the 7 monstrous plants. It turned out to be much more than that. I literally had to saw off each of them as close to the soil as possible in order to have access to the roots. And then it was a matter of clawing at the dirt until each one would break free. It sounds simply, but these plants aren't called cabbage trees for nothing. It felt as though I was attempting to dig out a tree.

By the time I finally managed to break the first massive root free, it was nearly lunchtime. Carrie and Campbell were up by that point and keen to do their own gardens and so I lugged my massive root over to their place to show it off. Carrie took pity on me and decided she would come help me out (I only had 6 more to do) and then I could help her and Campbell do theirs later. Linda and Prajot joined in which was awesome as instead of just me slaving away in the dirt, there was now 4 of us. Well - except that Prajot took a bigger interest in entertaining Jess and Kaeto and was a bit distracted from the task at hand.

Eventually we managed to get all 7 cabbage trees out of my garden, leaving it riddled with massive holes that I would later fill. After some much-deserved lunch it was onto Carrie and Campbell's place. By the time we had dinner, food had never tasted so good and all I could think was that I was stoked for some sleep. But the day wasn't over yet.

Carrie, Campbell and I had just finished eating and were getting into a game of Scrabble when we got word that two of our volunteers had gone up the Waterfall Track during the afternoon and still weren't back yet. They weren't answering their phones and it was now after 8PM and completely dark outside. We all piled into the car with headlamps and the hope that maybe we might spot them walking on the road on their way back. We didn't.

We got to the start of the track and seached the bushes for any signs that they might have stashed bikes there, confirming that they were in fact still on the trail. No bikes were found and so it was onto Plan B. Prajot had a heap of gear in his car and so he got ready to head up the trail, but as we didn't want him on his own - I volunteered to go with him. Both of us had done the trail heaps of time and though it was risky to go up during the dark, we were the best bet of finding the volunteers - particularly if one was injured.

Swapping my shoes for some with better grip and borrowing one of Prajot's extra winter coats, we strapped on our headlamps and started huffing it up the trail. Dark, muddy and cold it was and all I could think was that we would be very lucky to find the two girls missing. As the trail winds it way up the mountain, crossing the stream multiple times - there was plenty of opportunity to slip and fall or - worse - take a wrong turn and end up lost in the middle of the bush. From what we'd been told, neither one was particularly dressed for bad weather, much less was prepared for walking in the dark. The worst was that neither had done the trail before and so Prajot and I only hoped that they hadn't taken the wrong fork in the path, leading them to the summit of Mt. Isobel instead of to the Waterfall.

And so we walked. And talked. And gasped for air as we were going quite a good pace. The jacket I was wearing was too warm, my jeans were uncomfortable, I was worried about ruining Linda's boots, plus I really had to pee - but we pressed onwards.

It was about 15 minutes of us walking quickly when I looked up and about 5ft in front of me there they were, slowly making their way down the trail by the light of a cheap keychain flashlight. We asked them if they were okay (they were) and gave them headlamps and some warmer articles of clothing. Then we started to slowly make our way down again.

As it turned out, they had taken the wrong path and went about 15 minutes up it before realizing their mistake and turning around. By that point it was already dusk, but the one girl really wanted to see the waterfall and so she pressed on while the other one waited (wasn't feel well). By the time they turned to head back down, it was well on the way of getting dark and with only one small keychain flashlight between them to light their way, travelling was slow. One volunteer didn't have a jacket, no mitts, nothing warm to speak of and was wearing lightweight running shoes. The other one fared better in the clothing department, but her stomach wasn't feeling great if she tried to go faster.

Prajot and I were just glad to have found them.

Eventually we made our way back to the trailhead, hopped in the car and drove back - phoning Carrie at the camp in the process to let them know we had found the two volunteers. By the time we made it to the camp, we had everyone running to us to make sure the two were okay. They were. In fact - they were so okay, that they were completely oblivious that they had caused such a panic among our staff that the police were on the line ready to be sent out as a search party. They just giggled and wished Campbell a Happy Birthday before skipping their way to their cabins. The rest of us gapped at their unapologetic nature and then proceeded to debrief the situation to sort out what had happened.

Needless to say, by the time I finally got to bed after 11PM, I had no issues falling asleep.

Up the Garden Path

Time has been flying along in its normal fashion these days. I've handed in my Work Visa Application - $270 + $350 Medical + $70 Police Certificate - just so that I might be able to stay in NZ long enough to get my Residency Application approved. And so it goes. The pile of paper on my desk indicating a pressing need to delve into my personal life and show I am who I say I am is haunting me. But I have to do it. Scrounging up a birth certificate and proof of each individual work experiences I've had in my life should be a hoot. Can't wait. Can't wait until it's all over and I can stop having a date of termination virtually stuck on my forehead.

As it stands, I've been preoccupying myself with other tasks - part procrastination - part distraction. Obsessing over the status of my boxes I posted to myself from Canada has become my new hobby. Current status? Still in the hands of some customs officer. Don't they realize that my 6 boxes being sent to the same address with bits and bobs so obscure even I don't remember what's in them are in no way suspicious? Fingers crossed I didn't accidently pack a piece of dirt in one of the boxes -- that's one sure way to never see my things again.

In my time of waiting for my power cord to my laptop and the second shipment of my published book, I have taken up planning my garden for this spring. Turns out to be a little bit more like going back to school than it does in picking up a new hobby. For some reason it seems relatively terrifying to have to learn how to grow something living that I will one day hopefully be able to eat than it does to pick up a crochet needle and design a cozy throw. Even still, I press on with the mere hope that perhaps I will somehow discover I have a green thumb hidden under all this nail polish and that the amount of work put into caring about the acidity level of my homemade raised flower beds will one day pay off.

So far - the plan is there - now it is just implementing it. Who was it that decided that gardening supplies should be so expensive? Who would have thought that a bag of dirt could cost so much. Go figure. Regardless, I am keeping up the hope that come summer time I will be well on my way to a year round veggie patch. Plus a couple of flowers thrown in there too.

I've started things off in the vain hope that I can somehow keep two indoor pots of herbs going. Parsley and Coriander have become my new plant babies, sitting up proud on my kitchen ledge in front of the window. Fingers crossed they manage to catch enough sunlight to continue growing. That and that I don't sporadically water them too much or too little, causing their immediate demise. I've recently been told that Coriander can be quite difficult to keep alive and so given that I have managed to not kill it in its last 9 days of living with me has been reassuring. At least more so than my reputation of somehow managing to kill my cactus plant as a child.

And so it goes - the rain appears to be settling in for the last part of winter here and I only hope this means good things for the garden I have yet to grow. Perhaps I can manage to convince a few people to grow things with me and then weeding won't seem so much a chore in the next few months.

Garden or no garden - Kaeto continues to walk around like the little black ninja that he is - even taking to following me down the main road for a kilometer before waiting 2hrs in the bush to walk me back home. Jess continues to be my running buddy - or at least when I finally get out of bed and am motivated to run in the rain. Again. But above it all, I still have to sort through my Residency Application. Who would have thought that trying to get into a country would be so demanding. Surely there will be points given for walking the length of the country right? Fingers crossed.

Around the World and Back Again

I find it difficult to believe that it's already been over a week since I have been back in New Zealand. The last few weeks have literally been a whirlwind of craziness that has left my head screaming for everything to just stop so I can catch up. The last week in Canada was no exception.

After spending a bit of time in Invermere to do the Jumbo Pass trail with my dad, we headed back to the city only for me to continue my onslaught of scheduled activities with various people around the city. There was the dinner night with my Grandma to which we made our own mango chicken dish and then proceeded to watch a marathon of Mantracker shows before calling it a night.

My grandma, Danielle, me & Mom

The following day I had lunch with an old friend and then due to another friend cancelling our evening plans, I managed to have a bit of a breather before the next day loomed ahead. Meeting another friend for lunch, I proceeded to meet up with my mom where we caught up on the going ons of our week before heading off to get photos done with my sister and Grandma. It was a blast to just be hanging out and giggling the afternoon away while a photographer captured the moment. Something I am sure we will all treasure for the rest of our lives.

That night my sister and I slept over at my mom's house as the following morning we had plans to be at C.O.P. We had scheduled ourselves in for their summer package deal - Ziplining and Bobsledding for a mere $99 each. Perfect. An air of excitement hung around us as we waited for things to get going. And then while we strapped ourselves in our harnesses and helmets. And then while we drove to the top of C.O.P. before piling in the elevator that took us to the top of the massive ski jump used in the '89 Winter Olympics. As the ski jump is no longer in use, C.O.P. has used the opportunity to modify the jump into an incredible ziplining course.

I was stoked.

The instructors took a few minutes to explain the basics and then asked who wanted to go first - Danielle and I jumped at the opportunity and confidently clambered down the see-through stairs to where we would get harnessed to the zipline rope. Though I've ziplined before, there was something still so exhilarating about the knowledge that I would be hurtling down a rope hung high above the world below before coming to a stop at the bottom, all the while hoping like mad that nothing incredibly horrific would happen. It didn't. Danielle and I flew do the bottom with smiles plastered on our faces before disembarking and waiting for our mom.

Then came the bobsled. This was something I had always wanted to try since I knew you could and upon talking to my aunt about it, apparently so did my Great Grandmother. Due to the age of my Great Grandmother at the time, C.O.P. refused her to be allowed to try the adrenaline sport and so she passed away without getting to cross it off her bucket list. I figured perhaps my run of the bobsled could be part tribute to my Great Grandmother.

As nice as that sounds, the actual ride of the bobsled was entirely different from anything I really had expected. As we were going during the summer, there was no ice on the route and so we were riding in a sled with wheels. And because we were all amateurs, we were told to sit in the sled while the "driver" would give us a push before jumping in to steer the course in order to hopefully eliminate the chance of us flying around the corner and off the entire run itself.

We were told to hold onto the bars by our sides, lock our elbows and shrug our shoulders to support our heads and prevent them from being knocked about inside the vessel. Right. Once we picked up speed, there was no stopping me from being a manic bobble-head once sees strapped to the dashboard of a vehicle. Beings that I was a the front, I was hoping I'd get a chance to see what was coming for us, but I ended up being too busy just trying to keep my head from falling off.

By the end of our run (1min, 19sec) - my head, neck and shoulders hurt. But it was awesome. I haven't a clue how they call bobsledding a sport and probably won't ever volunteer to do it again - but it was well worth it.

Janelle & me

From C.O.P. it was a mad dash to Invermere where I met up with some girls for Janelle's Bachelorette party. After a couple days of shopping, spa-going, penis games and dancing, it was time to come back. But not before meeting up with Trevor and co. in Banff for a little outdoor concert. It was perfect. Particularly when I got word from my dad that my books had arrived. I was ecstatic.

When I got back to Calgary, I ripped open the box of books only to be in awe at the fact that they were real. I had never quite registered what it would mean to hold a book in my hand that I had written myself and it was a bit surreal. But I didn't have much time to dwell on that as it was time for bed. The next two days would need all my energy.

That following day I spent madly running around town (thanks to my mom being my chauffeur) delivering my freshly printed books. I had to sell as many as possible before I left because there was no way I'd be able to ship them back to NZ without an exorbitant charge and I also needed the money to fund what I did want to post back to NZ. And so sell them I did. By the end of the day I literally had sold about 90 of the books and only had a handful left to take back to NZ. Perfect.

By the time I packed everything and stored everything and paid for post boxes and had my haircut and opened a savings account at the bank and had a quick dinner, it was time to get to the airport. I had a similar feeling to when being blindfolded and spun around and then expected to walk in a straight line afterwards. My mind was a blur and I only hoped I would stay awake long enough to board the correct plane.

Trevor, Mom, Lori, me & Danielle in Banff

After a layover and plane switch in Vancouver and 15.5hrs later, I had made it to Sydney. But with a 10hr layover there, it would be a while until I'd get to Christchurch and eventually Hanmer Springs. With the spare time, I picked up the very popular Fifty Shades of Grey book from the bookstore and read it start to finish right there in the airport. I was not impressed. I haven't a clue why everyone is so excited about the book and definitely do not recommend it to anyone. It in no way got my "blood pumping." Instead, I had trouble staying awake to finish it. Bummer.

Eventually I found my way to a bed in Christchurch and then met up with Kelly the next morning to do some much-needed grocery shopping before heading back to Hanmer Springs. It felt good to be back.

And now that it's been over a week, it is as though not much has changed. I am still waiting for my post boxes from Canada in the mail, though I have managed to hang a few photos on my sparse walls. It has been both difficult and easy to get back into the swing of things and it really does feel like home.