The One Swim-Bike-Run

Gasping for air, I lifted my face from the water to scan for the buoy I was swimming toward and could have sworn it was drifting farther away!

Pushing onward (and trying to figure out how the hell to swim in a straight line) I noticed the lead swimmer shoot past me in the opposite direction at what seemed like an impossible pace. Great, I thought to myself, I’m not even halfway and that psycho is almost out of the water! Another 200 excruciating meters later and my feet touched the mushy bottom of Lake Hayes. Throwing a quick look over my shoulder I wasn’t surprised to see only a handful of women still swimming behind me. I had my work cut out for me for the next two legs of my first triathlon (since my glory days as a six-year-old CARD triathlete superstar in Bidwell Park).

Half stumbling, half jogging, I made my way up the hill to the staging area where my bike (a roadie rental from work) was waiting for me. While tying my shoes, I noticed how few bikes were still in the staging area and silently cursed myself for not training more in the water. The irritation fueled my adrenaline, and as I ran through the grass toward the road with my bike- I began my attack. Picking off two competitors before leaping onto my bike, I then put it in high gear and charged past several more women on the gravel, my thin wheels precariously balancing over the ruts.

Once on the road, I came around a corner and noticed the dozens of women ahead of me, all pedaling vigorously through the rolling hills. Soon an unplanned group of cars turning were slowing down a group of fellow riders and myself. After about 10 seconds of impatient waiting, I looked over my shoulder to the car behind me, threw my arm out to signal I was merging, and riding out into the oncoming lane, I furiously peddled past the traffic whilst passing another three or four competitors. Over the next few miles I set my sights on the woman in front of me until she was behind and continued to push my pace through the beautiful New Zealand countryside. Thankful for my summer evenings spent climbing up steep mountains in search of downhill rides, I took advantage of a number of big climbs on the way back to overtake several groups.

In the final leg of the ride, I finally met my match in the form of a small woman in blue trainers. We used a bit of teamwork to draft off one another (a helpful break from arduous solo pedaling) until we arrived back at the staging area. Shouting a few words of encouragement at one another, we ran to drop off our bikes before losing each other in the mayhem of runners, bikers, and supporters.

With legs of jello I jogged back out toward the trail, listening to friends cheering and re-adjusting my mop of hair as I ran. Knowing running was one of my strong suits, I mentally had a laugh at all the impressive swimmers and continued my attack. Tired and feeling energy slip away with each step, I didn’t know if I would be able to catch anyone else. Luckily, everyone else was drained too, and I’d like to think my rugby mentality of “all out, all 80-minutes” helped me push through the fatigue. Gaining on and overtaking one exhausted woman after another, I forced myself up what seemed like vertical mountains before letting my momentum build and sprinting down the other sides.

A good second-wind allowed me to muster up a quicker pace as I noticed bigger gaps between runners. Finally, realizing I had less than a mile to go and no one close enough to catch-up to, I let up on my “race” mentality and enjoyed the sun, the stunning lake view, and the elation of competing again. A smile broke on my face as my feet hit the grass and the finish line was in sight.

Just over an hour of swimming, biking and running had passed and I felt the exhaustion melt away into euphoria and satisfaction as I crossed the finish line already thinking about entering my next race.

-Ashley

Fun Fact: Two 12-year-old girls competed in the race, one of them completing the course ahead of over half the field!

The One Camping, Rafting, Hiking...Oops, That Was Just Work!

As another massive gust of wind swept through the campsite I literally used my entire body weight to hold down the half-collapsed canvas tent. My coworker pounded furiously at the metal stake to secure the tent back in place, but as soon as one stake was firmly in ground the wind would counter-act our efforts, and as if to mock us, two more sides of the tent would launch into the air. An hour passed before the wind died down and the HQ Events staff (including myself) was able to rejoin our group of 35 Australian clients – all happily boozing it up inside the Skippers Canyon gold-mining museum, which was doubling as our dinner venue.

This was night two of a three-day binge of “work”. I had started things off Wednesday evening with an exciting and equally terrifying drive into the canyon. I happily careened around corners and through ruts in a lifted Land Rover whilst re-living the glory days of driving the family jeep in high school (*sidenote: Mom, I never took that car off-road, I swear)! Once onsite, Dugald, Nick, and myself spent several hours pitching 12 mega-tents and admiring the awe-inspiring evening sky –including the most massive full-colored rainbow I’ve ever seen; it was perfect enough to make the front page of the SF Chronicle during Pride weekend! Once the tents were up, the sun was down, and the rain started, the boys and I shared a few beers, stories, and yummy camping grub.

Thursday morning started out ominous and blustery but broke into mildly overcast as Dugald and I literally ran a few kilometers back up the canyon to meet the clients. Mostly middle-aged and mostly men, the Aussies piled out of the bus with their matching backpacks and looks of confusion. Apparently the idea was that the group didn’t know where they were going or what they were doing until the last minute –this included going to the airport and trying to get through immigration without knowing where they were flying (not an easy task and only feasible outside the US)! Dugald made up some fish story regarding the conditions of the road and how the group was going to have to hike 20k’s into camp; to my surprise they all began hiking without complaint. A few minutes later, having figured out Dugald was full of it; we arrived at camp and quickly set to the first of many activities throughout the trip (including jet-boating, gambling, and team competitions).

Our venue was brilliant, an old mining encampment complete with an Indiana Jones style bridge, mining tunnels, and more old mining equipment than you would know what to do with – all sitting atop vertical canyon cliffs that dropped into the teal blue waters of the Shotover River. As the sun set, what was a slight chill turned into down-right cold and the only defense most of the hot-weather-minded Aussies could think of was more booze. Smashed and happy, the good ‘ol boys sat around the campfire and began a competition of who could tell the dirtiest most politically incorrect joke. I learned that night that those who hail from Oz aren’t just good swimmers and crocodile hunters – they can drink and tell jokes with the best of them!

Near midnight my boss Karla and I were able to coerce the last of the group to their tents, but not before having to turn down several sloppy offers of sharing body heat. Tired and annoyed to be frozen in the middle of “summer” I headed to my own tent, curled into bed, and lay gazing at the most starry sky I’ve ever seen; I even caught a glimpse of a few super-sized shooting stars. Shivering and happy, I dozed to sleep listening to the symphony of snores and bodily noises emitting from the tents surrounding me.

A tapping noise stirred me from sleep and as I cracked one eye open I noticed a thin layer of frost was covering the inside of my tent. Not wanting to get up and face the cold, I told Dugald to piss off but was (not so) gently reminded that despite the camp-like environment, I was still “at work”. Within the hour I was chatting up the clients while eating an amazingly delicious catered breakfast and sipping hot tea wondering when or if it was ever going to get warm again. Shortly after I found myself struggling to take down the tents that the wind had so easily dismantled.

By midday camp was packed and Dugald and I were playing musical chairs with vehicles whilst trying to get to the white-water rafting site with everything in order. Arriving just on time with the raft guides, we suited up and were soon on the rafts with our clients headed down the river. I still can’t believe I got paid to paddle through rapids with some of the most hilarious people I’ve ever met!

Once off the river, the group had a few drinks before heading back to the hotel. I had a short period of downtime before having to dress-up and head out to the client’s awards banquet. The banquet was not on my work schedule, but rather the head of the group had invited me to join them (along with getting the free drinks and dinner) because they had enjoyed my company. I was flattered to be invited and enjoyed a lovely evening socializing and listening to one client after another declare how this years’ muster (as the annual even is called) was the best ever. Hearing firsthand from the clients how meaningful the trip was to them and receiving heartfelt praise for my work was an extremely gratifying moment that further established my desire to work in event planning.

With job requirements like being able to talk loudly, talk a lot, socialize, compete, run around (sometimes literally) and make lists, I think I’ve definitely found my calling!

-Ashley

Fun Fact: Today I realized that anyone I meet from Australia or who is a native New Zealander instinctively shortens my name to Ash. It then occurred to me that these people shorten EVERYTHING!

Examples:

- Brekkie (breakfast)

- Tea (dinner)

- Sunnies (sunglasses)

- Ambo (ambulance)

- Avo (avalanche)

- Beaut (beautiful, admirable)

- Ute (utility vehicle, AKA truck or SUV)

- Esky (refrigerator)

- Cardi (cardigan or strappy tank-top)

- Arvo (afternoon)

- Kindy (kindergarten or preschool)

- Mozzie (mosquito)

- OE (overseas experience)

- Sammie (sandwich)

- Ta (thank you)

- Uni (university, not to be confused with college)

- Cuz (cousin)

- Chrissy (Christmas)

- Rellies (relatives, parents)

- Welly (Capital city Wellington)

- Barbie (a barbeque, and yes, for real they say this one)

The One Endless Adventure: AKA Living in Queenstown NZ

I know you’ve all been dying to know what it’s like to live in the Adventure Capital of the World, so wait no longer because you’re about to find out everything you ever wanted to know about little ol’ Queenstown New Zealand!

When explorer Will Rees decided to start a farm off the shores of Lake Wakatipu (wa-ka-tep-ooh) in 1860, he probably couldn’t even dream that 150 years later the area would be the most visited tourist destination in the entire country. Thanks in part to a gold rush occurring in the area and the popularity of extreme sports readily available in and around town, Queenstown has grown and flourished, with costly living expenses to boot! Want to know what Queenstown looks like? Check out The Lord of the Rings Triology (filmed in and around QT), Willow (my favorite movie of all time, also filmed in Northern California), X-Men Origins (actor and hottie Hugh Jackman still exists on the local video store customer database), 10,000 BC (horrible movie, I know), and the stunning scenes of The Chronicals of Narnia series.

So what is it that I do in Middle Earth? Anything and everything that I don’t have to pay full price for! A typical week always holds an adventure or two. In the past few months I’ve been bungy-jumping, white-water rafting, jet-boating, paragliding, and down some of the gnarliest mountain bike trails the country has to offer. I’ve also been in the process of conquering my fears of dark bottomless water while swimming Moke Lake, Lake Hayes, and an occasional dip in the freezing Lake Wakatipu. Daily runs on the hilly trails along the lakes keep me sane whilst hikes and bike rides around town keep me in awe of the beauty I’m surrounded by.

Working part-time at four different jobs has kept me busy, mostly dealing with tourists. Since I’ve been living here for longer than 3 weeks, I’m officially considered a local and still can’t believe some of the things “tourists” say and do.

Favorite observations:
- Asian tourists taking pictures…of EVERYTHING.
- Asian tourists taking more pictures.
- The European man who insisted on wearing a wetsuit for his jetboat ride. (For those of you who have never been on a high-speed jetboat ride, the only contact with water is when the spray from 360-degree turns drizzles on you.)
- Foreigners coming in to buy shoes and then having near heart attacks when they realize the “cheapest” shoe available is $145.
- Americans crossing the street wherever they want and expecting traffic to stop (cars will only stop for pedestrians at zebra crossings, aka striped cross-walks)
- Explaining the menu to foreign customers with items like: flat white (espresso and milk), long black (espresso and water), kumara (sweet potatoes) filo (veggie filled pastry), bangers and mash (sausage and potatoes), capsicum (bell pepper), cuppa (tea or coffee), fizzy (soda), lemonade (sprite), chocolate fish (marshmallow covered fish), stubbie (bottle of beer) and tinnie (can of beer).

Favorite comments:
- “I’ve been on the website, so I obviously know more about this product than you do.” (No offense to my Pommy friends but Brits can be the snobbiest people ever!)
- “How far is it to 7-mile reserve?”
- “Will this rain-jacket keep me from getting wet when it rains?”
(and my favorite)
- “When you take the cruise on the lake, when is the best time to see the dolphins?”

Ah the joys of living in a town where 4 in every 5 people you come into contact with are from another country! As i've previously mentioned, living in Queenstown isn’t cheap either. Gas prices are the highest you will find in the country (at a measly $6.00 a gallon), monthly grocery bills on a budget hover near $400, at the bar an “inexpensive” beer costs $7.00 (whilst buying a 6-pack of the cheap stuff at the market will only run you about $14), the “early bird special” season pass for the nearby ski field (smaller than Boreal) has jumped to $799, and rent per week for a bedroom 15-minutes from town costs $120-$250. It’s insane that I’ve been able to save any money at all since moving here!

I guess if it were economical to live here the town would be over-run. Living in the most expensive place in the country (which has one of the most expensive economies in the world) has its drawbacks, but you can’t put a price on being able to bike, skydive, boat, raft, bungy, hike, swim, ski, kayak, paraglide, skate, helicopter, cruise, snowboard, horse ride, paintball, golf, abseil, base-jump, zipline, off-road, disc-golf, luge, fish, or run after work!

-Ashley

Fun Fact: When watching the Olympics over the next few weeks check out my mate Mitchey Greig in the newly added event of skier-cross. One of ten NZ winter Olympians, Mitchey is a Queenstown native and one of the craziest chicks I’ve ever met!