The Good Die...

Young. 

I met Cathy long ago on the Bike Across Kansas  (BAK) Ride. We carpooled out to the middle of a stark windswept landscape, set up our tents and waited for the ride to start on the morrow. The winds kicked up, lying our tents down low. Tornado warning sirens went off sporadically throughout the night. 

It didn't matter, Cathy woke groggily, sporting a toothy grin and joked about the scary weather. "That's Kansas! See why I left?" 

That was the essence of this tiny Powerhouse. Cathy generated smiles, hugs and laughs. She was always handy with a compliment, a favor or a welfare check. She was an incredible friend to me and so many others. 

I nicknamed her, "Legs of Steel." All that running she did gave her frog legs. Lots of power and muscle. She would win or place in the many races she participated in. I kidded her about having to build an addition in her home just to hold her trophies. Of course, she was humble about her accomplishments. "There weren't that many women in my age category!" 

Then the scourge of bone cancer attacked her. She sent out notifications to her friends and family of updates on what was going on. She admonished her fans to go out and play and have a good time. She reminded us that life is too short. She was inspiring right to the end.

Cathy, I'll miss you. The World is now at a loss that such a tiny, bright candle of goodness has been snuffed out.

RIP Legs of Steel. 

Cow Poop and Private...

property...

would have been a more apt name for the scenic sounding "White Cliffs Walkway." 

After a day of loitering around the CBD (Kiwi talk for Central Business District) of New Plymouth, I had to do something. I set off in the morning to the above mentioned hike. 

The owner of the hotel I was staying at made an off-hand comment when I told her of  my day's intentions. "The local council is having issues with the property owners along the tract. It might be a bit strange." Well, the weather here has been strange (for so-called summer) why not the walkways? 

After about an hour's drive, I came face to face with a warning sign: "Private Road. No vehicles allowed past this point. Park at the bridge." 

OK. Not wanting to cause trouble or to be an Ugly American (we already have one in the White House), I parked my tiny sedan at the bridge. Then I walked...and walked...and walked for about 1.5 miles of one lane dirt or gravel road, while pirouetting around cow poop piles. It was cold and windy too. At last, I left the road and crested a few hills before I came to a prominent point. 

From the photos, one can see the violence of the Tasman Sea AND the Irish Emerald Isle look of the countryside. There's a reason for all that green. It rains an awful lot and it's too clammy for the grass to dry out. Hence, there's heaps of shocking green. 

Welcome to my summer in New Zealand. Just outside of New Plymouth, there's a large volcanic mountain. I haven't seen it yet, but I've heard it's there. Tomorrow, I'll get closer and hike along its flanks. There's a rumor, the sun might make a rare appearance, but that's just a Weather Channel rumor.

Wish me luck!

Come on Summer!

Jeff

The trees kept getting in...

the way of the views! Is an apt way to describe the Atene Skyline Tract. The eye candy rewards are few. Those darn trees obscured the possible photo ops that beckoned below those way too narrow ridge lines. I tip toed through a few dicey sections where possible owwies or worse could have happened with one misstep. I came across ferns so huge they required their own Zip Codes. Those Jurassic Park plants kept striking me on my exposed body parts, greatly impeding my forward progress. The tract went missing a few times as I found myself off on a goat trail. I know it was a goat trail because I saw and smelled a goat. 

In other words, another day of Kiwi hiking. Oh well, I got a great workout for those 11 miles. 

Now I'm in a cozy New Plymouth hotel room while another squall rages outside. It's going to last another 24 hours. 

Good thing there's a movie theatre and bars in this town.

BTW. The locals concur that this Southern Summer of 16/17 stinks on ice. (Like our new President) Spit! 

G'Night!

Jeff