Last Friday Milo and Molly were itching for some exercise, so we went on a day hike up to the Packhorse hut, checking out a route we hadn’t taken before. You never know, we might be able to convince another family to hike up there with us and spend the night, and a good guide ought to have checked out the path ahead of time. Milo checked out that path up close and personal for a little ways–he took nose-dive after nose-dive and didn’t seem at all phased by the experience. Here he is, pleased as punch, tromping along the grassy path with Lyttelton Harbor in the background.

It was a warm clear day, but the wind is what gets you in NZ, and we hunkered down in the sun behind some boulders for lunch. Some day we’ll stay overnight in this historic hut…but probably not during winter as the stash of firewood to feed the wood stove is pretty scarce on the grassy tussock-hills.

Swallows built this nest in the nook over the hut door, too high for me to peer into. I thought I’d be clever and hold the camera up there, hoping for a shot of cozy little eggs or peeping baby birds. The moment the camera edged over the lip of the nest it erupted in a flurry of wings, and we beat a hasty retreat. Not sure how many birds exited, but those “helpless little babies” scared the bejeebers out of me!

We walked through a planted pine forest, listening to the sound of the wind in the branches and the clink and roar of the logging equipment. For some reason these super-cool mushrooms were sporulating, maybe they somehow sensed the impending logging operations and decided they were ready to migrate. Milo was good at spotting them, sometimes seeing them before I did. “MMMMore! he announced whenever he sighted one.

Milo slept in the backpack so I had time to linger over some flowers. Particularly as they were conveniently growing at shoulder height, no bending with a 35-lb-pack required! They look like giant nightshade blossoms to me, but I haven’t had a chance to look them up. I’m not sure why, but it’s oddly satisfying to be able to guess at plant families, even if I don’t know the species at all. Is it the illusion of familiarity that is so comforting?

For various kid-health-related reasons this weekend’s Plan A and Plan B fell through. Both had entailed going on hikes with other families with children, and I had been looking forward to chatting and getting to know some new people while we walked. Plan C was hatched in Jeremiah’s mind of Saturday night–fishing at Lake Coleridge, a giant lake up in the foothills of the Southern Alps, about 90 minutes from Christchurch. Time for true confessions: I HATE FISHING. Alaskan salmon fishing has been the only exception so far, because there are so many fishing that there is always something on the hook. The rest of the time, “fishing” entails swatting at blood-sucking insects on the bank of some random body of water for hours on end, trying to keep Milo from drowning and myself from dying of boredom. Needless to say, I wasn’t in the greatest mood as we bumped along the gravel road to Lake Coleridge (Jeremiah will confirm this, no doubt). But Jeremiah decided to take Milo fishing with him let me go climb up a small mountain near the lake, panoramic views the whole way, and I returned in a much improved frame of mind. There’s nothing like some exercise and alone time to improve one’s outlook on life.

The mountains here must be made of very brittle rock. There’s not much topsoil, and the little vegetation that manages to get a foothold is in constant danger of sliding off the steep sides in a jumble of scree and meager grasses. The whole landscape looks like it’s slowly drooping and schlooping down into the valley, to be carried out to the ocean by the rivers.

Milo spent the day as “Daddy’s Little Buddy,” happily playing in the sand while Jeremiah fished in the lake, sporting his new Cornell hat from Abi and Omi and his snazzy red sunglasses.

For most of the day the lake was glassy smooth, a rare no-wind day in New Zealand. Towards late afternoon the wind picked up and a few minutes after this picture was snapped, our warm little water hole was swamped by waves. That explains the driftwood “tide line” and beach-like appearance of the lake edge.

Jeremiah built a fort with Milo to cast a tiny bit of shade, decorating it with grasses and seed heads. When I returned Milo showed me proudly the part that he built.

Clean at last! The sheen of sunscreen and sand in every crack and crevice (use your imagination) gave way to a hot shower.

“Marlborough” and “Marathon” hardly go together in my imagination, as it conjures up a picture of leathery cowboys chain-smoking Marlborough brand cigarettes as they wheeze their way around a 26-yard track, spurs jingling. But Marlborough is also a region in the northeast corner of the south island known for dry weather, excellent vineyards, and picturesque sounds. And it was where we headed last weekend, to run a half marathon.

The road up to Blenheim (town in Marlborough region) snakes along the coast near Kaikoura, and NZ drivers seem to know no caution when it comes to overtaking on blind corners or towing monstrous boats behind little sedans. Jeremiah sputtered with disdain when this contraption zipped past us. He definitely believes in using the right tool for the job, whatever the situation (plus, let’s be honest, he just likes big trucks), and he shakes his head at overloaded puny cars that we often see towing big loads. I have yet to see one unable to make it up a hill though….maybe a new suspension is less expensive than the fuel it takes to run a big truck here.

I pushed Milo in his jogger for all my training runs, but wasn’t allowed to push him in the actual half-marathon run. Fortunately some of Jeremiah’s colleagues from work came up for the weekend and generously watched over him while we ran. We were both happy with our runs, but in completely different ways. Jeremiah’s goal was to be able to look back and say he couldn’t have run it any faster–he’d given it his all. And he did! My goal was to enjoy myself, and not get exhausted. And I did, starting at the back of the pack and skimming through the cool morning air, admiring the laser-straight vineyard rows edged in roses, with the tawny hills beyond, pony tails flouncing. When you start at the back you pass dozens of people and no one passes you, quite an ego boost. It was delicious.

There were 4 photographers set up along the race route. A mere day or two after the race we got emails giving us links to proofs of photos of each of us, and I marveled at the technological organization that represented. Somehow they tagged 8000+ photos with the correct names, put them with unique links on a website with purchasing information, and generated an email with a link to these personal photos. Jeremiah is crossing the rock hop river crossing.

Cheeky Mama! That’s what Jeremiah said anyway….I thought the photographer was probably tired of exhausted runner shots and might like to add a little variety to his day.

Milo enjoyed the race too, Mr. Social. He doesn’t have a shy bone in his body, and he’ll give anyone a grin or a “hi five.” It makes him lovely to have in groups.

There’s that cheeky grin!

Milo is an up-and-coming photographer, at least according to him. This is one of his shots, taken during the award ceremony when he spent a good hour using our drop-proof camera to photograph everything around him.

The race was held at Villa Maria vineyard, and this picture was taken at a neighboring vineyard, from their old-world style tower that overlooks their vines.

Peekaboo! There are all kinds of styles chosen by vineyards to make an impressive backdrop to their wines and wine tastings. This one chose the Spanish look, with rosy pillars, colorful tiles, and black wrought iron.

Cherries were ready to pick in Blenheim, so on Sunday we stopped at a huge planting completely netted to keep out birds. Lovely cherries, not a spot of brown rot to be seen.

What can be more fun that eating cherries? Why, feeding them to Daddy, of course!

Milo is quite a good little helper when it comes to picking cherries. I remember picking cherries with Mommom and Poppop as a young kid. The day was so hot that they let us take our shirts off. We had a blast. I’m so glad my parents and grandparents took us to pick fruit–it’s a part of our heritage now, and will be a part of Milo’s.

Look at this cool little dude. Or nerdy? He doesn’t care, he’s comfortable. We stopped at White’s Bay to take a walk and let Milo play in the sand. Later that day we emptied it out of his diaper, but it was this morning before all the cracks and crevices got clean.

Milo kept trying to feed the gulls his cracker, but he’d throw it 4 feet in front of him, too close for the birds’ liking, then get impatient and go to retrieve it. He chased the birds in circles trying to get them to eat that cracker. Then Daddy gave him a cookie, and before we knew it he had thrown his gourmet peanutbutter and chocolate chip cookie to the birds, who, after a short battle, consumed it in one gulp without even savoring it! When we asked him later that day what he had thrown to the birds, he remembered quite clearly. He yelled “COOKIE!” repeatedly as he grinned like an imp. I guess he felt it was worth it to loose the cookie if he got to watch the birds squabble over it.

The bluff above White’s Bay looks out towards the Marlborough Sounds. We’ll be back up here at Christmas to hike the Abel Tasman.

Last weekend we went hiking at Godley Head (a point on the Banks Peninsula near Christchurch) at the invitation of Jennifer, a new friend that Jeremiah met at an engineering conference. There’ enough common ground just sharing a nationality to befriend other Americans here, and Jennifer likes hiking to boot. It was a gorgeous day, first really warm (almost hot) day we’ve had this spring, and conversation never flagged.

Lyttelton Harbor is way down below, the ancient mouth of the volcano.

Sheep now climb on the WWII remnants built to defend NZ against invaders. This was an observation post to eyeball ships approaching Lyttelton harbor. Jeremiah works with a man whose great uncle was a fisherman at the time. Fishing boats approaching the harbor were supposed to give a special secret signal to let observers know who they were, but the uncle forgot one day. They sunk his ship and he died. I bet all the other fishermen remembered to signal after that!

Sheep undoubtedly have the best views in this country, and they are totally unconcerned that the abandoned building they clamber on has so much worrying history behind it.

Milo can’t say much in terms of words yet, but when he saw these sheep he made sure we knew about them (and how cool they were), gesticulating and being quite articulate in his own way.

I came home yesterday to find Milo and Jeremiah in the back yard, Milo in the cutest most outrageous get-up ever. Who can beat a bright yellow and black bike, red shades, a blue sun hat, moccasins and NO PANTS for this little biker dude? He’s clutching his cell phone and mechanical pencil, all ready to help Daddy out building his sandbox.
I think God gave kids extra cuteness as a survival strategy. We have plenty of those parenting moments where if it was anyone but your own child bugging you, you’d punch them in the nose. This morning I retreated from the breakfast and sandwich-making mayhem to spend two minutes in the bathroom, on the toilet, all by myself. Then the door knob I thought was locked starts to jiggle and a cheeky little face peers around the edge. “Pee! Pee! Pee!” he announces. Then he wants to shove past me and see into the toilet, and have little pieces of toilet paper to wipe on his nose, then flutter into the potty, then he wants to brush his teeth….. I used to wonder at moms that would complain in exasperation that they just wanted to POOP by themselves, but I wonder no more.

A bit whimsical to call this jobber a “shelf,” so I guess it’s a “creation.” Oh good, maybe it counts as Art and I can get away with it being a bit eccentric. We have a tiny bathroom, and there doesn’t seem to be an over-the-toilet storage solution in all of New Zealand. You know, those flimsy shelves that you can get for $75 at Walmart? And lumber here is crazy expensive, so I found two old wooden chairs on Trademe for $1 and bought used paint (can you believe it?) at the second hand store for $4, new screws at the hardware store (you don’t want to know the cost) and cobbled together a solution. It’ll hold up the towels and toothpaste.

Rebecca mentioned to me just this morning how smiley Milo is, which is by-and-large true. But typically I only take photos when he’s happy, which isn’t a particularly balanced way of portraying life. Then Milo and Daddy had a grand noisy battle of the wills (which Milo won) behind the closed bathroom door at teeth-brushing time, and I had a perfect chance to photograph that sad face, replete with toothpaste decor. And what was all the fuss about? He just wanted MAMA to brush those teeth.

Poke, poke, poke! That chubby little finger had some thrust behind it, and he was very accurate and careful. I laid out the green bean seeds in a line and he pushed them into the soil. We’ll see if he remembers planting them when the little green necks start to come up through the soil.

The Banks Penninsula, two ancient eroded volcanoes next to Christchurch, has an amazing network of hiking trails. This afternoon we chose a short walk up through sheep pastures to the Packhorse hut, built in 1916 in a saddle between the hills overlooking Lyttelton harbor. It’s amazing–30 minutes drive from our house in the city, 1 hour brisk walk, and a historic hut with mattresses, a wood stove, and only a $15 charge–you’d think the place would be full on a Saturday night. But there was nobody spending the night.

Peekaboo! The hut has a commanding view, and whether or not Milo appreciated the vista, he sure liked climbing the benches and peeping out the windows. The boxy thing next to the hut is the roof water collection tank.

Don’t worry Milo, we didn’t spend the night this time but we’ll be back. It’s so easy to get here that we could decide to go after work on Friday, grab our stuff, and be here in two hours. We might even be able to cajole another family with kids to hike up the hill and join us.