A Good Ending.

I have survived 10000 miles of travel, 120 days of my cooking, and 4.5 months in unknown territory amongst strangers now friends. I have survived earthquakes, driving left-handed, and many days of rain. I have survived falling ice, poor rock quality, bad gear, and crap anchors; I have survived a whiteout in the Misty Mountains for six hours; travel in buses and cars on narrow roads; skiing unknown, narrow lines; walking along fields full of dead sheep bodies and poo. I have survived times of dread, loneliness, sadness, good laughs, fear, spiritual lows and spiritual highs, anger and joy, discomfort and peace. I have had times of great insight and reflection and times of complete boredom. I have survived sickness. I have survived the highball boulders of Castlehill, the schist at Wanaka, the loose rock in Queenstown, the exposed routes of Mihiwaka, thin, precarious ice 1800 meters up on the West Face of the Remarkables, the melting ice at Wye Creek, the bad gear at Long Beach, and the weather all in between. From the southern most end of Nugget Point, with beaches of lounging sea lions, to the epic southern alps on the Routeburn; the waterfalls of the Catlins to the Lord-of-the-Ring-esque Rock and Pillar Range, I still haven't seen most of NZ. I have spent every night in a sleeping bag! I survived the onslaught of 4000 lambs, unwilling to be pushed into a 7x1 channel filled with anti-blowfly chemical. I went to a Brooke Fraser concert in Dunedin! Board games, fishing, and good times with many friends, I will miss. Sleeping in a snow cave, head poking out looking at the awesome southern stars, listening to the Kea (an alpine parrot); and swimming in cold, springs and mountain lakes -- these are some of my favorite memories. God has been so good to me, letting me explore his creation and meeting awesome people, while keeping distant relationships secure. I know that I have grown since my time in New Zealand. I have learned many things including that it is really really hard to say goodbye to people you know you may never see again (this side of eternity). I never knew that I would fall in love with New Zealand and its people!

Now, as I write these final words from my room in North Carolina after 38 hours of traveling, I am currently dealing with switching back to life in America. Things are different/ difficult and I think some things will never be the same. Life seems so strange to me now. What a great opportunity and experience! Thank you to you all who have read these entries, prayed for me, and allowed me to go (even if I didn't seem to want to at first). This study abroad experiences is definitely going to be a milestone in my life. Farewell New Zealand.

Coming to a close??

The days are warm and longer. I can hardly believe that my time in New Zealand is almost complete. Sometimes I have this aching feeling to get back home, back to "normal" life. I doubt though that my life will ever be normal again. I think New Zealand has changed me in many ways! However, more reflection is needed before I divulge. Although there is a desire to return home, it is not because of negatives -- things that turn me off from this culture and place. I honestly do believe that I could live here! Four and a half months is hardly enough time to see everything here and appreciate this place. I think it is humorous that those words are coming from my mouth.

What am I doing now that classes are out? Yes, I have been out of classes for about two weeks now. There is much to study before my finals but Davidson has taught me well how to study efficiently in a few days before finals. This past weekend, I was lucky enough to find a ride to visit the Catlins, the southmost part of New Zealand. I have never seen sea lions in person and found myself stumbling upon them! It was good to do something other than climbing but I realized that I like actually experiencing a place when I visit instead of simply seeing it (i.e. a tourist).

Now I am back to my studies. I still have several days before the first final and afterwards plan for a wee road trip with some other kiwis for my last 10 days in New Zealand. That means more climbing and more reflecting. Everyday I am discovering something here, whether about myself (what I want to do with my life!) or about New Zealand and the culture. I shall enjoy these final days and am very glad for this opportunity to be here.

Bloodshed On the Remarks

It has been awhile since I have posted! This, I would like to say, has mainly been the result of school. The semester is already drawing to an end. I have turned in all my assignments for my classes and only have three finals a month away. I have not been doing much climbing on the weekends, which has been good and bad. I sometimes (more often than not) feel guilty for not traveling more and seeing more of the country. It does become tiring but I know that I will regret it if I do not take advantage of my time here. Unfortunately, this depressing me! I feel as though I am not seeing enough of the country. The good is that I have been able to hang out with people. I have made such good friends here, and I will be sad to say goodbye to them (they are already trying to get me to stay longer). Honestly, I have thought about staying...

Anyway, other than being busy with classes, hanging out with people, and the occasional climbing at Long Beach, things have been a little low key (which is good because I don't have an endless supply of money). I got another chance to go up to the Remarkables (know as the Remarks) this sunday to get revenge on a route that I was shut down on just two weeks before. It is spring here and with each day becoming warmer but with some freak low temps, there was opportunity for some good ice. I was willing to make one more final trip to Queenstown, hoping to get on "Friday's Fool", a mixed route (that means climbing rock and ice often at the same time).

The weather was beautiful: clear blue skies with a slight breeze. The fellow I met in Queenstown, James, and his friend, Rupert, and I were all stoked for some perfect climbing conditions. After making the 45 minute, exposed traverse to the bottom the route, already 1800 meters up the remarkables (one can take the chair lift from the ski field to the base of the West Face on the remarks), we finally reach the bottom of the route. We rock-paper-scissored for who would get the first lead. I won but there was confusion if winning meant getting lead (as if i wasn't obvious), so we played again and James won. There is no way to really know what caused the following events and if, say, I had won, if the following accident would have happened to me. After climbing approximately 25 feet, James was getting nervous and rightfully so. The ice was not that good. It was pale and brittle, the signs of ice being expose to too much sunlight and flash freezing over the night. Fortunately, there was good gear in the rock but the narrow strip of ice, which was dead vertical, was precarious. James, seemingly already shutting down his climbing mind and confidence, then strikes this convex, football-sized ice block, which breaks off hitting him in the face. Stuff like this happens all time. I think on every route I have climbed that has ice on it, I have at least once been hit by falling ice -- usually due to me pulling off as I climb. So no big deal. However, I immediately saw blood dripping from James. The block had removed a good quarter inch of his upper lip. Well that was obviously the end of the day! Ru lowered him, while I was frustrated with myself for forgetting my med kit (that I always carry with me). I then soloed up, following and smelling the blood, to retrieve our gear and while down climbing loosed a refrigerator-sized ice block, fortunately not taking it with me down its 1000 m+ fall. James, to say the least, needed stitches. Ru and I got him back to the ski resort and we went our own ways -- me catching the 3:00 bus back to dunedin.

It will most likely be the last time I will be on the remarks. The days are becoming too warm and I think the ice, if it can last, will be like it was this past sunday. So there ends my ice climbing/mixed climbing days in New Zealand.

The Energy Center of the World - An Epic Excursion with Earthquakes

It is spring here but you wouldn't know it. For comparison sake, it is similar to Colorado: it may warm up and be rather nice but then snow a couple of feet (which is nice too). It is mostly cold though, so many students, for their mid-semester/ spring break, ventured for the northern, more temperate climate. I decided to make my way to Castle Hill, about a 6 hour journey in a car from Dunedin. Sit back because this is going to be an interesting story.

My problem thus far in New Zealand has been transportation. I do not have a lot of money and want to do things that few other internationals students desire; therefore, sharing rides is unlikely. Petrol is expensive, so it comes down to crunching numbers for the cheapest, most reliable option (I could also hitch hike, which is smiled upon here, but it is not reliable for a hundred or more kilometer journey).

Here was my plan the night before the break: "I have a week to do something. I know of a couple climbers in Castle Hill that I could crash with -- so I will head there. Ben invited me to go skiing, which is expensive but would be fun. Aight, so here it is. Plan A: I'll go skiing with Ben, Stu, and others, head back for playing in the evening church band, ask if I can use a car to drive to Castle Hill and live out it, and go bouldering for five days. Plan B: Go skiing, catch a bus up to Christchurch, rent a car, live in it, go bouldering for five days, and catch a bus down."

Plan A would have been much cheaper but no one was willing and able to lend me their car. So renting it is! Renting a car plus the bus fare was cheaper than I thought (about the same to ski!). These details are boring but they do lead to a better story in the end.

The bus ride was long. People like to have their comfort stops... However, I arrived on time to reach the car rental. It was actually a new compact that was rather nice. I was a bit nervous to drive due to the fact that I have never driven on the left side, in a left-handed manual, going around the belts (get it? roundabout). It was a bit stressful going through the second largest city in New Zealand but once I was on 73 heading to Arthur's Pass, everything was fine, especially when seeing the beauty abounding. I took many stops just to look around what the Dali Lama called the "energy center of the world". To reach Castlehill, you must go over Porter's Pass but many people continue to go through Arthur's Pass, which is suppose to be one of the most beautiful places in the world. It is also the only way the Maori people were able to reach the west coast through the southern alps.

It was raining but I didn't care -- the rock is limestone and the sun brutally vibrant (mostly because the ozone is thin there) so things would dry out quickly. Pointing out things to myself and laughing with a childish glee, I finally met up with Alex and Kathryn, the English couple who are traveling and climbing around New Zealand for a year. We hung out for a bit at the place they were staying (Flock Hill Lodge), played some ping pong, caught up, and stoked the fire.

I was ready to crush in the morning (which means to climb hard... or at least think you will climb hard). Even after sleeping in the compact car (not recommended) and the cloudy raining morning, there was still plenty to be climbed. Words cannot describe this place. From a climber's perspective, there is literally no end to the boulders. I felt like a kid in a toy/ candy store, running about from boulder to boulder... losing interest in one and pointing and screaming at another. The climbing is much different though: using triceps, shoulders, and core muscles to wallow up this sometimes perfectly smooth, round boulders strewn in an open plain, sandwiched between glorious mountain peaks. I climbed well that day and the next but I was utterly destroyed even after the rest day -- I couldn't lift my arms above my head!

Friday. Last full day in the Castlehill area. I went up early to warm up while Alex and Kathryn were getting themselves ready but the weather played foul. Rain turned to sunshine, drying the rock, but then turned to snow, shedding several centimeters of fresh snow. It made for nice ping-pong weather in a woodstove-warmed hut. Kathryn offered or me to sleep in their storage tent because I could actually stretch out. The snow had stopped at this point and the skies were clear, dropping the temperatures drastically but I was warm nonetheless, dreaming about the next, final day of Caslehill.

Here are my thoughts when I was awoke my movement during the night (Keep in mind, I had been sleeping in the car by a lake for four nights and with all the new snow, the nearby ski resorts were detonating for avalanche control):

Bounce Bounce Bounce
wh--what? why is the car moving. why are Alex and Kath trying to get me up so early? - said in an awoken-too-soon-and-angry tone.
Bouncing stops, start gentle shuffling front to back every five minutes or so
why would the ski resorts we detonating so early?? Those must be some pretty strong explosives if I can feel them all the way down here.
Sleepiness fades and irrational fear increase
I think that was an earth quake -- what if lava starts gushing out from the ground?

I found out the next morning that it was a 7.2-7.4 earthquake that woke me up the night before. I was confused to be actually bouncing inches off the ground, up and down, and thought that I was in the car. I didn't think that it was that bad though. Alex and I joked that there might be some new boulder problems because of the quake moving some boulders around. There weren't. I climbed for about 2 hours and then waved off the English couple, who had been so hospitable to me, and made my way back to Christchurch, with little knowledge of the earthquake.

I passed through the epicenter unaware, trying to get gas but there was no power. I eventually made it to the car rental place where I was met with wide-eyes and unbelief. The lady found it hard to believe that I drove through Darfield (the epicenter) and was returning the car on time with gas in it. She also found it hard to believe that I would make it back to Dunedin that night because everything was closed and the city was in semi-chaos (really not that bad). I made it on the only bus leaving that evening for Dunedin and slept well on my cold but comfortable bed.

The earthquake is not what is interesting to me, though. The Castle Hill area is quite honestly the most beautiful place I have ever seen. There is some sort of strong pull to the place, or an energy. I met such a diverse range of people, all doing cool activities. Climbers from Austria, skiers from Switzerland, Canadians, English, American, Kiwi, and Aussies are some of the nationalities I met. It is awesome to sit down for a meal and talk to such a diverse group of people, including a guy who has/is biking around New Zealand for 9 years preaching the Gospel. Next time I come to New Zealand in the winter I am going to bring two things only: skis and a bouldering pad and head to Castle Hill.

New Zealand Like Scotland Only Further

I just realized that in the post so far, I have not said much or any on the city of Dunedin or the where I am living. I thought this title, taken from a Flight of the Concord's poster, is quite appropriate.

Dunedin was originally settled by the Scots. In fact, Thomas Burns (nephew of the poet Robert Burns) founded the city with the intent on naming it Edinburgh, after its sister city in Scotland. However, this was foreseen to bring problems and it was renamed "Down from Eden" or Dunedin. Of course, the natives, known as the Maori, lived here long before the European arrived, but I will not go into that history.

Dunedin, located on the coast, is the second largest city on the Southland and was originally quite Presbyterian/ Anglican with a economic focus on sea trade and agriculture. However, after the Gold Rush, there seemed to be a rise in secularism, which continues and grows today. Otago was the first university in New Zealand, founded 140 years ago. It is also one of the best for medical/ scientific pursuits -- basically where all the doctors come from. The school is pretty much the center of the city, economically and geographically. Since over one-third of the population here are students, most everything revolves around students. A cop asked/said to me once that students seem to be able to do whatever they want here. Drinking is often out of control, with couch burnings and random crowds of guys walking down the street with no underwear on, though that is not a normal occurrence.

The first thing people will ask you if you say you live in Dunedin is what street you live on. Castle and Leith are well-known throughout the country for their partying. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, I live far away from the partying (though not that far) on Dundas street. I am also quite lucky to be living in a manageable flat. Walking past other students' flats (flats = apartment), I am amazed that a person can live in there. The phrase that comes to mind is when the x-file team walks into Moe's on the Simpsons and says, "Man alive there are.... men alive in here". Essentially all flats have no central heating and follow the way of other buildings in New Zealand with no insulation and single paned windows. A local said to me that if it dropped to -10ºC in the winter, the government would have to institute different building codes because many people would die. Obviously, that has not happened. However, it does get quite cold here. Space heaters are common but I lose track counting the electrical units in my head (i.e. electricity is quite expensive and space heaters literally suck the ions from the outlet).

Despite the cold, the flat is quite nice. I live with two other girls, one a kiwi and the other an exchange student from England. Both are nice, barring the more than occasional leaving of unclean dishes in the sink. I think that I am blessed to be living girls though because they are not load, slightly more clean, and do not like my food so there is no threat of it being eaten. Although I feel as though we have ended the "honeymoon period". Some head butting is starting to occur.

As for culture, it is much the same as America, except for a few differences. Everyone has their faux pas but apparently it is the cool thing for guys to show more than a little leg, wearing sandals or jandals, and a ratty shirt. The more leg, the more manly for braving the cold. For the ladies, showing a little more leg is necessary but considering it is really cold, you wear stockings, almost always black. Then you must wear a black, Kathmandu downjacket. Everyone either wears converse or those really old toms. Scarves are popular for both genders. Haircuts vary but guys usually have mullets, rattails, mullet+rattails, mohawk, and countless variations. The food is much the same except there are more lamb dishes and different kinds of fish. There are the occasional British relics, like the mince pies. The music seems a bit outdated. Often I hear '80-like music. "Friends" still airs on the TV, etc. The final thing I will mention is the phone. DSL internet is a new thing here still and texting/ cell phones are also a recent addition. No one calls each other but everyone texts, which becomes frustrating when you have more to say than you feel like typing. I believe this is mostly due to the high phone rates here and the cheaper texting options. Still, it is a marked difference from the states. Literally everyone texts. Even the old people!!!

That is a little taste of this part of the world. They laugh at us Americans, yet they try to emulate us (in some respects).

Lost in Whiteout on the Misty Mountains

So this past weekend, I headed up to the Remarkables (aka the Misty Mountains in the Lord of the Rings) to meet up with James (the guy that I met in Queenstown) and do some ice climbing for a few days. We also went with a friend of James, who goes by Roo. We were going to camp out for a couple of days so needed to bring food, camping, and climbing equipment. Snowshoes were required since we had to hike about 2 km, contouring around Double Cone mountain, which had received a fresh onslaught of snow.

I see a trend in the ice I have climbed in the two years. In North Carolina, I missed some of the best ice conditions this past January because I was taking a Wilderness First Responder course, only to climb the tail end, spring break of 2009 in Colorado ( it was warmer than NC), and now in New Zealand on the tail end of winter, I am met with soupy ice. Soupy ice is nice for climbing because it requires less energy to get a good stick (swinging the ice axe into the ice); however, it is not so good for protection or anchors. Most of the ice was the consistency of a snow-cone and it was hard to find solid ice that was not aerated. There were some very cool looking routes and heaps of potential but the conditions were slightly less than favorable (or safe). Most of the large WI 5's (a rating for ice routes based on how steep the route is -- 7 is the highest) were either hollow, detached, or had a visible crack running across the pillar. Therefore, we had few options of we climbable ice. Although, my view is to climb anything that is top-ropeable (do not have to lead from the ground up), James and Roo seemed uncomfortable with the conditions. I felt fine, probably due to the fact that I have climbed really crappy ice in North Carolina for so long. We ended up doing only five routes in 2 days, most of which were single pitch but some topped out at about 100 meters.

The plan for the last day was to wake up around 8:30 and start the steep hike out of Wye Valley. It had been snowing hard the previous day and it was again snowing hard the morning for the hike out. A couple of factors made this hike out less than desirable: the packs were just as heavy because everything was wet and freezing, including climbing ropes; my ice boots are not waterproof so had taken on water for the last couple of days -- it was the constant entry of snow into my boots, water pooling at my feet and then freezing during then night, and thawing them out with the heat from my feet each morning. At times the snow was too steep or too exposed for snowshoes, which required removing the 60+ lbs pack, donning crampons, putting poles away, retrieving an ice axe, and putting the snowshoes away. To make matter worse, once we reached the top of the valley we were in the mist of the misty mountains. Whiteout.

I felt as though I knew where to go -- based mostly on intuition. But there is no messing around in a whiteout. It would be very easy to walk off some cliff edge or initiate an avalanche. The visibility was such that I would, at times, widen my eyes as if I were in a very dark room or cave, trying to distinguish between snow and sky. James had a map and compass for the area but that meant stopping about ever 30 meters to make sure we were on the same bearing. Unfortunately, the wind was so cold that stopping meant my wet clothing would freeze. In retrospect, the map and compass actually caused more problems and probably shouldn't have been used. Intuition is a powerful guide. James at one point said we needed to climb this steep ridge to make for the exit saddle but it didn't feel right. We later made many wrong turns... sometimes into avalanche territory. Fours hours later, I knew we were lost... and that was a horrible feeling.

We dropped down onside of a ridge. A very steep ridge. Close to the bottom we realized that we went down the wrong saddle, which meant hiking all the way back up. I about went mental. I could not removed the pack anymore to go through the process of removing snowshoes and putting on crampons. I could not stand falling up to my waist in snow, my pack giving into gravity and pulling me downhill. I could not stand the thought of digging a snowcave and spending another night in this weather. Finally at the top of the ridge, I yelled to James in Roo, mostly because the wind was blowing hard but also because I was completely frustrated, that we needed to head left hugging the ridge and we would find it. Call it luck if you want but I was right.

I barely made it to Queenstown to catch the bus at 5:25 pm. We spent six and a half hours in the whiteout and the hike out should have taken three hours at most, and we fortunately made it out before nightfall. I think I will stay in Dunedin this weekend.

Simplicity

Here is an entry into my, what Kiwi's like to call "diaries". I prefer journal. Anyway, I went with a Kiwi (Ben) to this beach for some quite time this sunday afternoon.

"I am at the Aramoana beach. Absolutely breathtaking. I am on this small [30 meter rock] ridge above the beach with the tide breaking below me. The beach is long and pristine, with rock outcroppings scattered like miniature islands. The water looks similar to that of the Caribbean -- it is green and blue and I can make out the shapes of sea life swimming by (no seals though). I look to my right and I see a light house, small but enough light to guide the large tankers into the small inlet that opens to the Dunedin sound proper. I am essentially on the other side of the peninsula. I watch a large tanker full of goods make its way into the bay.

Out in the ocean there is nothing to see, save a large rain cloud threatening to get me wet! To my left are large, mostly green cliffs that drop into the ocean. I can follow the [coastline] all the way north -- just barely seeing the snowcapped mountains. All I can hear are the waves breaking. Nothing else. I feel a slight breeze, cold but with my mat and downjacket I am warm enough. The warmth of the sun is welcomed when it manages to break through the partly clouded, blue skies. I smell fresh air. No smell of pollution or rotten fish/ sea weed. My conclusion: mountains + ocean = heaven.

Places like this remind me how insignificant I am. I seem to like to emphasize that but it is true. Put me in the ocean and I would not last very long. Leave me in the mountains and I might fare better but still, there is only so much in my control. I see, hear, feel, and smell the scene before me but still I am not able to grasp it. Even the large tanker was a small dot just moments ago in the raging ocean -- waves, I like to think, coming from the west coast of the USA (but probably from Chile).

I wonder about my place in this world. What am I suppose to do with my life? How am I going to take my place in this world when I feel so small [and so unimportant]? I am not sure of my career aspirations. I am not sure if my academics reveal much about what I am [called] to do.

There is much to learn from the wild world though: simplicity. Isn't that funny? We have to spend a lot of time trying to understand simplicity. People [are] too busy running around and do not take the time to stop and think about [the world around them and their place in it]. [There are so many distractions that cause a complex life].

This amazing [understatement] view in front of me tells me something about my questions: To the top of the highest mountains, to the deepest ocean, how great is God's love for me. The mountains and the ocean are immeasurable and still how much more is His love for the people who inhabit this world. God is good. God is love. God is sovereign. Simple."

Soon after I wrote this I watch some dudes donned in dry-suits run into the water with their surfboards and catch some waves. New Zealand is too cool.