We first visited New Zealand on our original global adventure in 2003, and spent the month touring the South Island in a rickety old camper van that had frankly seen better days. One of the ‘must do’s’ at the top of my list was Milford Sound, the Fiordland of the south. It is New Zealand’s most famous tourist destination and according to Rudyard Kipling, the eighth wonder of the world. Unfortunately in 2003, the weather and events conspired against us, it being August and the height of winter in the southern hemisphere. The narrow winding road to the fjords was decidedly snowed in and even our cunning plan to follow the snow plough didn’t get too far when the snow plough driver himself stopped, turned around and gave up in search of less snowy roads to plough.
And so Milford Sound has remained on my ‘to do’ list ever since. I vowed to go back… and 20 years later, here we are. Only this time it’s December and allegedly the height of summer. Darren beat me to it by a matter of weeks, clocking up a couple of cheeky kayaking trips on his solo jolly. But sailing into first Doubtful Sound and then Milford Sound aboard Seabourn Odyssey, was really something else. We spent the best part of a day cruising the fjords and enjoying the spectacular scenery, surrounded by towering peaks and cascading waterfalls.
We had our share of showers during the day, but given it rains here more than half of the days in a year, we thought we got off rather lightly.
As the ship pirouetted one last time and set her sights on the open ocean, we headed for the hot tub and ordered a glass of champers to toast that we finally made it and to say goodbye in style! The icing on the sailaway cake was the appearance of the most lovely rainbow.
The wide expanse of choppy water between New Zealand and Australia, i.e., the Tasman Sea made for a blur of sea days, actually a welcome rest after all those back to back port days. This is where you get a really great opportunity to experience the Seabourn brand at its finest.
Not forgetting we still had New Year to celebrate too.
Celebratory parties and excellent food and drink opportunities abounded.
And before we knew it, there was land ahoy and we were sailing past Tasmania (ooh, there’s another one for the bucket list). Next up: Australia.
And the back to back ports just kept on coming. All the way down at the bottom of New Zealand’s South Island lies a lesser known and much smaller island – Stewart Island. We didn’t know much about Stewart Island and didn’t have particularly high expectations, but it turned out to be one of our favorite ports. It didn’t hurt that the sun had got his hat on.
From the tender landing at Golden Bay Wharf, there was an optional shuttle to take us to the small town of Oban on the other side of the island. But why ride when you can walk? And why walk the easy way along the paved road when you can detour via overgrown rainforest trails? Rainforest it was for us then.
We popped out at the aptly named Observation Point along the way, looking back over rolling hills, with tiny fishing boats moored in the bay and our much bigger ship hanging tight for us further out.
Oban was a charming spot nestled in Halfmoon Bay.
It had everything you could want from a cute little tourist village by the sea – a corner shop that sold crisps, a fish & chip shop, and a pub. We were delighted to see it also had a bike rental place. Even better, they had e-bikes 🙂
Renting an e-bike for a couple of hours meant we could explore much more of the surrounding wild coastline and scenic bays than on foot. We zipped from one secluded bay to the next. We were blown away by the white sandy beaches – it reminded us of some of the prettiest spots we’ve visited in Scotland’s Outer Hebrides.
We were serenaded by these little guys, Tuis apparently. Those little white sacs around their necks inflate when they sing, v cool.
Eager to fit in as much as possible into our day on Stewart Island, Darren had booked us on an afternoon sea kayaking trip. It was just us, our guide Phil, and one other couple (who’d only ever been on ‘sit-on-top’ kayaks in temperate Caribbean water). If you look at any other kayak blog posts I’ve done, it seems there’s always a decent dose of drama. And this one was no different. The wind conditions are what made this one ‘interesting’.
As we rounded one particular headland, to me it felt very similar to our recent Rangitoto kayaking experience from Auckland – fighting against massive waves as we bobbed uncontrollably like a cork, with a soda stream of salty water siphoned directly at my face. Darren later told me it was way more dangerous than that. So much so that the guide offered to comp the trip. Notably, the other couple didn’t make it round the headland and the guide went back to check on them and then called us back to safety. As you can imagine, with the wind behind us, getting back was somewhat quicker.
Side note, in a moment of experimentation, I asked ChatGPT to write this post for me. I told it that we did a rainforest hike, a bike ride and a ‘hairy’ kayak trip in Oban. I’m not going to call it cheating because it didn’t produce anything of value (“our hiking boots crunched on the damp earth” – wait, what?). But it did cause me to chuckle when its description of the kayak trip included an encounter with a Great White Shark! Turns out AI has got itself a rather creative imagination.
Back in the real world, the advantage of the kayak trip being cut a little short was that we got to squeeze in a wee drink at the pub before rejoining the ship. Sitting in the beer garden with the last of the afternoon sun and a Pimms and lemonade – don’t mind if we do. To be fair, I think Darren had a pint and tucked himself into the shade of a patio umbrella, but that’s just par for the course. And this being our last port in New Zealand, I also stocked up with crisps from the corner shop 🙂
What in the world is in Timaru? Not a lot, truth be told. Quite how it came to be included in our New Zealand South Island itinerary is a bit of a mystery. Luckily, Darren put his ideas machine into overdrive and came up with a tailored day trip to show me some of the highlights he’d experienced on his recent solo South Island trip.
We arrived in the port of Timaru to a very gloomy grey day and picked up a rental car to drive inland through the pretty countryside of Canterbury. Very typical scenery with rolling hills and fields of sheep. Darren rather excelled himself with the first stop, which was a bakehouse aka pie shop in Fairlie. Pork belly puff pastry pie with apple sauce and a garnish of pork crackling, don’t mind if I do. I couldn’t help feeling a tad smug also as the drive over Burkes Pass revealed brilliant blue skies, leaving the leaden grey clouds to linger on the coast.
A stroll by the glistening turquoise waters of Lake Tekapu gave us a chance to stretch the legs. I’m sure the locals don’t pronounce it Take-A-Poo but the playground humor makes me chuckle every time 🙂
And then in Twizel (which immediately makes me think of Twiglets, although there were none to be found), we rented a couple of mountain bikes. Whilst Darren had spent the best part of five days biking the Alps 2 Ocean route, this was the condensed two hour highlight version. The bike was a night and day improvement on the Wellington one, and the scenery was just blow away breathtaking, especially with the glorious sunshine of California proportions.
We cycled through yellow fields of waving wheat, the snowbound Mount Cook majestic in the distance. A brief lunch stop at Lake Pukaki included a mini picnic of succulent sushi salmon with soy and wasabi, washed down with lashings of ginger beer (the non-alcoholic type).
Cycled back to Twizel, followed by a scenic drive back to Timaru, and all in all – a Grand Day Out, as Wallace and Gromit would say.
The crusty coastal weather continued as we sailed into the Otago peninsula to dock at Port Chalmers. I asked Darren what was on the agenda today – surprise surprise, a bike ride! Ah, but this time on e-bikes. Hallelujah! Praise be to Ogden Bolton Jr, Michael Kutter and others along the way for the invention and evolution of the electric bike. I was mighty happy to power up for the day.
After collecting the bikes in Dunedin, we followed the shoreline bike path past Anderson Bay and MacAndrew Bay, fighting a ferocious headwind. We stopped for coffee and cake in the little village of Portobello (not a mushroom or a market to be found) and the weather was looking up.
Imagine a horseshoe shaped bay that you want to do a circular route round and you’ve got to cross the water somehow. Lucky for us, Darren had booked us on the bike taxi from Portobello to Port Chalmers, a one woman operation involving a tiny metal boat and a few bike racks.
Safely on the other side, with the advantage of the e-bikes and the wind behind us, we were flying! Back in Dunedin, we figured 30+ miles of cycling still deserved a drink. True to form, Darren had that all wrapped up too, with not one but two breweries on the agenda – Noisy Brewing, followed by Steamer Basin on No Name Alley.
It was time to take a break from all that festive eating and drinking and hit up a few ports. First up, on Boxing Day, was Wellington – our last taste of the North Island. And even though it was Boxing Day down under, it was still Christmas Day back home. So we were able to FaceTime the folks to say Merry Christmas and show them the glorious blue sky and sunshine we were experiencing.
A day of nice weather is just what we needed for our two wheeled adventure. After a short shuttle ride out of town, we were dropped off with mountain bikes, helmets and a packed lunch. Our mission for the day – to ride the Remutaka Rail Trail from Maymorn through the Wairarapa Valley. The trail follows a historic disused railway line amidst lovely lush green countryside and native New Zealand bush.
Even though the trail was wide and well maintained, it started with a steep hill and loose gravel. That’s a steep hill UP by the way. Hence it started with me walking and pushing the bike, cursing under my breath about whose idea it was to not get an e-bike.
Still, once we got properly underway, I was able to take in the fantastic scenery and enjoy the ride.
I soon learned the importance of swapping out my sunglasses for normal glasses before going into a long dark railway tunnel – all the better for avoiding the potholes and puddles. (And there’s something about railway tunnels that will never not scare me, after being subjected to some horrifying seventies propaganda as a child to deter kids from playing on train tracks. If you know, you know!).
And then there was the Siberia Gully swing bridge. Very photogenic she was too, although I didn’t hang around to look down.
The final section was as if it was a totally different trail. It became a narrow winding single track with overgrown bits, washed out bits and steep drop offs. Hence my ride ended as it started – with me pushing. Ho hum. Still a fab ride overall.
The pretty little coastal town of Kaikoura was up next, in the Canterbury region of New Zealand’s South Island. We messed up a bit here in somehow managing to not book a kayaking trip, especially as the area is renowned for its sea life. But we made the best of it and went for a walk instead, in search of other wildlife.
The Kaikoura Peninsula Walkway winds round the headland, starting right from the ship tender drop off.
As we approached the cliff edge, the frenzied cacophony of squawks and shrieks from thousands of sea birds told us we were in ‘Bird City’. We were immersed in the largest red billed gull colony in New Zealand, topped off with terns, oyster catchers and black backed gulls.
Down by the shore line, we assumed it must be the wrong season to see the New Zealand fur seals we’d heard also live here, as there didn’t seem to be any sign of them. Until we practically tripped over one. And then another. Turns out the path followed the rocky shoreline right through the middle of the seal colony. We tried to keep our distance but they didn’t seem to respect the path too much.
Wildlife done, all that was left to experience Kaikoura was to check out the local brewery and round off our visit with a pint and a packet of crisps 😋
No photo of said beer or crisps so here’s some from the ship instead
Ooh, you gotta love Christmas on a cruise ship. The decorations, the festivities, the atmosphere. And to be fair, they didn’t seem to go overboard with decorations in Auckland, making it all the more magical when we stepped onboard Seabourn Odyssey.
It felt like I’d been working right up to the 11th hour. But with Christmas Day not until Monday, we still had Christmas Eve to wind down and let it all seep in.
Overnight, we’d cruised north, way north, and north a bit further, almost to the tip of the North Island of New Zealand. And so it was, on Christmas Eve, we dropped anchor in ‘Bay of Islands’, a stunning collection of 150 or so little islands, peninsulas and inlets. From there, we began a carefully choreographed set of maneuvers involving tenders, ferries, and buses – in order to go for a walk.
We were up and away on the first passenger tender, eager to get going (and more importantly to get back and make a start on the festive eating and drinking). Waiting for us at the dock in Waitangi was a shuttle bus to the nearby town of Paihia. Despite the initial choppy seas and angry looking overcast skies, the weather held up as we took to the coast path and beach trails from Paihia to Opua.
A short ferry hop took us to Okiato and our terrain changed to dense, steep rainforest. Proper Lord of the Rings stuff, very cool. Weird and wonderful trees, gigantic ferns and creepy strangler vines. Bird calls from another planet competing with the overpowering white noise of cicadas (or whatever Antipodean equivalent they have over here). The humidity was palpable, and the effort intense.
Having run out of water way earlier, we were mightily relieved to emerge from the jungle to a road with signs of life. And more importantly, an oasis of a petrol station. Nine miles in (with just a couple more to go) and somewhat dehydrated, we sat on the curb downing Gatorade and tucking into a well deserved chocolate chip cookie. At which point a friendly bus driver filling up with petrol took pity on us and offered us a lift into the nearby town of Russell. He didn’t have to ask twice!
Another ferry ride, shuttle bus and tender completed our Christmas Eve outing, at which point we were pretty glad to see our ship. The rest of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day really was all about enjoying Christmas.
There are some pivotal moments that I feel warrant a mention, even though I don’t have any photo evidence… Resting our aching muscles in the hot tub on the back deck, for one. With champagne, because it’s only right to have bubbles in the bubbles.
And then one of my favourite activities, which I’d been building up to big time, really looking forward to it: a Singalong Christmas Carol session. Darren on the other hand, took a bit of persuading, said he’d meet me there, and just about made it in time for the last chorus of We Wish You a Merry Christmas at the end. I was festively decked out in my Santa hat (brought with me all the way from home), swinging my mulled wine and singing with gusto. And somehow not a single photo to memorialize it.
It may not seem like much but boy, was I glad to see the inside of Tom Bradley terminal at LAX. It was a week before Christmas and I was finally about to follow in Darren’s tracks, destination New Zealand. Note to self… in the run up to Christmas, chances are that the merry hell of standard Friday evening LA traffic will be even worse than normal. LAX lies exactly 35 miles from our house. On a good day, door to door is 45 minutes. But you always allow two hours, just in cases.
Three and a half hours it took me! Three and a half hours to go 35 miles to LAX! With two miles to go and traffic at a standstill, panicked passengers were emerging from their Ubers and running towards the airport with their luggage. Adding to the mayhem, given there’s no actual path. They were the lucky ones with just their carry-on luggage – I didn’t fancy my chances much with my super sized cruise suitcases and laptop.
Having survived the very real risk of not making it to the airport, I luckily breezed through check in (everyone else was long gone). I breathed a sigh of relief as I realized I’d make it to the gate for boarding time. And then came to my senses… with a ‘cheap seats’ ticket, there’s no way I’d be near the front of the queue for boarding. Which would give me ooh, a good ten minutes to grab a glass of red in the terminal.
With a midnight departure, I totally lucked out on the overnight portion of the flight with a three seater row to myself. The layover was in Papeete, on the island of Tahiti. I’m sure it’s a tropical paradise although I wouldn’t really know. You don’t get to see too much from the inside of an airport, other than the flying in and out bit.
The first thing that hit me after arriving in Auckland a day and a half after leaving LA (that whole date line thing messes with my mind), was the somewhat Britishness of New Zealand. There were signs for lifts and toilets, and I was quite tickled to hear the satnav in the Uber speaking in a posh English accent.
Given Darren was still off galavanting on his South Island adventure, I’d asked him to book me a nice place, well located. He rather excelled himself actually.
I still had Monday to enjoy New Zealand’s capital city before starting work (the extra day thing again, it was still Sunday in California). I heard exercise is good for jet lag. And what a lovely day I had walking 12 miles across Auckland, technically kind of from one side of New Zealand to the other.
The rest of the week was quite honestly a blur of 4:30am alarm calls and long working days.
And then in flew Darren, as if to remind me that we had a vacation to go on.
Darren had booked us a sunset kayak trip on Friday evening. Should be a nice start to the holiday! Turns out this involved a 3+ mile kayak across open water to Rangitoto island; a picnic; a 2 hour hike up Rangitoto peak, descending at dusk; and a night paddle back in the dark, getting back around midnight. Not quite sure where the sunset kayak bit came in.
Pretty much as soon as we launched the kayak, right into full-on wind and waves, I realized this was going to be challenging. Of course, the front of the kayak takes the brunt of the elements. That’ll be me then. I was soon blinded by what seemed like buckets of salt water being repeatedly thrown in my face. The nose of the kayak see-sawed awkwardly over the crashing walls of waves, each time giving me a fresh drenching. I did my best to continue the arm and shoulder movements but not only was I a little out of practice, I wasn’t expecting quite this level of intensity. Meanwhile Darren was as encouraging and supportive as always, barking his orders from behind. Something about paddling harder.
I was dreading a traumatic re-run on the return journey, especially with the stakes ramped up in the dark. But oh what a difference in the conditions. The wind had mostly dropped and what there was, was behind us. It was oh so peaceful, like gliding across a vast mesmerizing pool of black glass. What felt like gentle ripples aided us from the rear, and our paddles lapped in unison. Tiny lights onshore in the distance were all we needed to guide us. It was approaching midnight and my body succumbed to a relaxed rhythmic trance of paddling, maybe not fully awake after a week of silly o’clock starts.
All those lovely sunrises during the week and just our luck, Seabourn Odyssey rocks up to a grey cloudy morning.
The anticipation for this Christmas and New Year cruise had been building for some time. I was so so so nearly pencils down with work (Darren even more so!), and we were full of excitement for the next two weeks. It was a joy to step onboard and receive a friendly signature Seabourn welcome. In our suite, amid a slew of personalized Welcome Onboard notes, was a delightful platter of Christmas niceties, a bottle of red wine, a stunning bunch of flowers, and the obligatory bottle of champagne. Don’t mind if we do!
We’ve been using the 1 Second Everyday app for a good few years now to string together a whole load of short videos overlaid with music, in order to provide a documentary of our travels. But I think the initial inspiration for the app when they designed it was to see how things change over time – I’ve seen 1SE compilations of a puppy growing up or a baby’s first few months. How about then, an aspen tree’s daily journey from summer bloom to fall foliage. That almost imperceptible transition from emerald green to golden yellow. All I had to do was pick a tree, any tree, and take the same one second video shot of it every day throughout our month’s stay in Keystone, Colorado. Better pick one that’s handy then, one that I’ll see every day, oh here we go, a prime specimen on our balcony.
Hmm, well that prime specimen did its damnedest to hold out on me. It soon caught on to me filming it every day, only there was some miscommunication around the purpose. There was me, patiently waiting for the tiniest signs of yellow, egging it on to change color. And there was the tree, exhibiting classic Hawthorne effect as it realized it was being watched and wanted to show off its glorious green leaves for as long as possible. While all around, the other aspens were giving in to their seasonal coming of age, my one insisted it could be the bestest greenest tree around. The whole damn month. Seriously. Of all the trees in all the world… and I had to pick this one.
I’m actually not going to subject you to the video, only for you to conclude that you wasted 30 seconds of your life. Here’s the photo version that should take a mere few seconds instead…
Meanwhile, the neighbor’s trees on 15th September…
Apart from my disastrous attempt at documenting a single tree’s autumnal journey, we needn’t have worried about missing out on fall. Half way through September, that cold snap brought about the first sprinkles of icing sugar snow on the mountains, and all around the aspens took that as their cue.
Despite the chillier mornings, we continued to take it in turns to cycle round the lake into work.
One morning’s bike ride into work was particularly memorable. I leapt off my bike to snap a photo of the stunning rainbow appearing before me. Only for the elements to create a perfect storm in the mountains, the rainbow emerging like a phoenix from the flames into a fully formed end to end wonder of nature. One of life’s little special moments.
What goes up must come down and the rainbow disappeared as quickly as it came, leaving me to face the sudden deluge of rain, albeit with the biggest smile on my face. And what goes into work must come home again, so sometimes we cycled back in the evening.
The view when driving back wasn’t bad either…
And just like that, it’s back to cycling on a weekend 🙂
I think I may have mentioned the importance of hydration on a bike ride!
For the final Colorado weekend, we took a little road trip out to see some different fall scenery. We took the bikes of course 🙂
The ride we did to Maroon Bells, near Aspen, was fall to a tee. A perfect day for riding, with crisp clear skies and seasonal colors all around (making up for the poor showing on the balcony!)
Over the Kebler pass was a super pretty drive, albeit still a tad early for peak colors.
We took to our feet near Crested Butte, to give our butts a rest from the saddle.
Unbeknown to us when we decided to stay the night in Crested Butte, this coincided with Vinotok, a local festival to celebrate the transition from summer to fall. (Obviously my balcony tree didn’t get an invite!) Sounds harmless enough, in fact if I was playing that game of Balderdash where you make up word definitions, I think I’d go with “a joyous pagan festival of wine drinking, merriment and celebration”.
The word Vinotok actually translates as ”all that dies shall be reborn”. Otherwise known as ”Burn the Grump”. This is but a taste of what we got…
There was certainly wine drinking and pagan celebration. A wreath of twigs and flowers was almost mandatory – as you can see, someone took pity on me and gave me their very sorry for itself wilting version. With that, we joined the throng of a thousand marauders in a massive costume party parading down the main street.
The night was dark but all around burned torches of fire, held aloft by jovial revellers. We moved ceremoniously along, shoulder to shoulder with characters wearing medieval masks, intricate face paint and decorative elk-horn headwear. All this to an increasingly riotous chant of ”Burn the Grump, Burn the Grump”. The event culminated in a massive bonfire amidst more chanting and ceremonious drum thumping.
What a bizarre night!
Our final week in Colorado gave us peak color.
We spent a fab evening with our friend from Evo, Aaron who invited us over for dinner and a sunset stroll with his dog, Wilson.
All that was left was the long road trip home…
… with a slight diversion to Mountain Tap brewery in Steamboat Springs, for this…
On our way via dinosaur country.
And a quick stop at the Bonneville salt flats before home.
The last word however, goes to my Como bike. My pride and joy. My new lease of life. At the start of this month long trip, I set a goal to ride 100 miles. That seemed a bit low for an ebike to Darren, so he upped my goal for me to 250 miles for the month. Meanwhile, rather than set his own mileage goal, Darren decided his goal would be to just beat my overall mileage for the month. OK, game on.
We’re no strangers to Vegas. As the party city lies smack en route to Colorado, five hours in, this tends to be our go-to first night stopover. Many a time, we keep it clean and lay low in the ‘burbs. On other occasions like this one, we just can’t help ourselves. We feel the need and we feed that need to hit The Strip.
Well that made for a long next day’s drive! But just like that, we found ourselves back in our second home – Summit County, Colorado.
Much as we were taken with the view from the balcony we had from our last spot in Dillon, we felt we needed something larger than hobbit-sized. So we went to the other extreme this time in Keystone, with a ridiculously large 3-bed 3-bath property to rattle around in.
Ironically, the September weather on the whole was better than in July/August. Dryer anyway. We spent much of our weekends cycling the many miles of bike paths in the area.
And it is written, any and all good bike rides deserve to be followed by beer…
And then, who’d have thought it, an Oktoberfest festival right on our doorstep in Keystone. Bring out your steins and your lederhosen. Bring out your accordion and get up, get on down to the chicken dance. Otherwise known as the birdy song. Yes really.
Back to reality and the working week, which was at least broken up by the 15 mile ride in. Virtually all bike path with the odd super quiet road, I couldn’t imagine a better commute than this. We took it in turns to ride and drive.
It’s not all cycling you know. We fit a few hikes in too. Up the steep AF trail to Mount Royal, with its breathtaking views down to the town of Frisco. And up Loveland Pass to the Continental Divide.
When we fancied a change of scenery and a change of brewery, we hit up the town of Boulder, just a couple of hours drive away. We missed our Basecamp, especially for little overnight trips, but we found the next best thing.
Another reason to go to Boulder is to fill your face at Voodoo Donuts. They of ”Good things come in pink boxes”. It has to be said, the Americans like their donuts. And the Americans certainly know how to do donuts. And these are no ordinary donuts.
Their signature Voodoo Doll donut is loosely figure shaped, loaded with chocolate icing and bears a scary monster face in a grimace. It has a kiss of death pretzel bludgeon thrust into its body. And the best bit – when you bite into it, blood-like raspberry jam comes oozing out. The Maple Bacon Bar donut was another hit, slathered in sticky maple syrup icing and topped with a rasher of crispy bacon. I could go on. But to be done with it, we took a baker’s dozen back to the EVO3 co-working office. As you can imagine, we were pretty popular that day!
Inevitably as we reached mid-September, the weather was starting to turn and the temperature was starting to drop. I could barely contain my excitement. Far from the ominous threat of ’winter is coming’, this was the sign I’d been waiting for – me and the trees both – that ’autumn is coming’. The emerald green mountainsides would soon be deluged in golden yellow and I was like a kid counting down to Christmas.
In the meantime, we embraced the oncoming seasonal transformation with pumpkin spiced lattes and cozy nights in, snuggled up by the fire.
Three weeks down in Colorado, one to go. Difference being the three weeks was spent mostly working, with just a little bit of playing. Whereas the last week we get to proper go play, with a week’s holiday from work 🙂
You could be forgiven for thinking the pictures look remarkably similar, at least they start off that way. We spent a few more days exploring the Keystone, Frisco, Breckenridge triangle, giving me ample opportunity to play some more with my new toy, my Specialized Como e-bike.
Any good bike ride leads to good food and drink, including two of our favorites, Broken Compass brewing and Breckenridge Distillery. I can highly recommend The Godfather cocktail at the distillery. “Revenge is a dish (or a cocktail) best served cold”. Aged blended whiskey and amaretto, stirred and poured over ice, with personalized delivery in a wooden keg to maximize the hit of applewood smoke. And drama. And 1SE video opportunities.
One of the quieter cycling routes took me up to the mountain hamlet of Montezuma. With no pub or post office, it’s pushing it to call this place a village. Even the Americans wouldn’t have the audacity to call it a city. Actually, I just looked it up. According to Wikipedia it’s a ‘town’. Population: 65. You get the picture.
Lovely as it was to pay a short visit, Montezuma is probably not where it’s happening. Given we’re looking at coming back later in the year for some autumnal leaf-peeping, we had a good scout around for other Airbnb options. So the bike riding became a bit of a house hunting initiative, lots of fun cycling around and poking at the outside of houses.
Darren unfortunately had to spend a bit of time recuperating from a cold of man-flu proportions. Luckily he still had the balcony to gaze out upon the lake wistfully. While my e-bike pride and joy had pride of place in the living room for charging.
Another Colorado fan favorite would have to be Rocky Mountain National Park. During Covid times, they introduced timed entry into the park, whereby you have to book in advance a two hour time slot for when you want to enter the park. And then they kept it going afterwards. Which means you and everyone else who booked for the same two hour time slot are generally going to arrive around the same time at the beginning of the slot, resulting in a lot of waiting in line.
Queuing is not one of my fortes at the best of times. Luckily, there is a loophole. Just get there before 9am and you’re good. Simples. Even with a two hour drive for us to get there, this was very do-able. And the later you leave it, the busier it gets. So if there’s one day worth setting your alarm for early, this is it.
Next up, Crested Butte. An impossibly beautiful mountain/lake setting that is classic Colorado. We were last here on our very first Covid road trip three years ago, and did one of my favorite hikes ever. This time around, more bike porn I’m afraid.
We did separate bike rides so whoever got back first got to choose the pub. That would be me then. I opted for Eldo brewery & tap room… “a sunny place for shady people”. Complete with sunny balcony, that’ll do nicely.
One of the things we miss about living in the UK, is being so close to Europe. Yup, that ability to immerse yourself into a different culture, scenery and climate at the drop of a hat should not be underestimated.
Some of our most memorable European holidays included hiking to mountain huts or lodges, in the Alps, the Dolomites, even the Spanish Sierra Nevada. You could only get to these places by hiking into remote mountain locations. And once there, you were transported to a world more basic than we’re used to. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a definite step up from backpacking, you have your own bed, food and drink. (And let’s face it, the older you get, the more averse to camping hardships you get; at least I do). But in these huts, we had a sense of camaraderie with others who had also hiked in, with their own sense of adventure, their own stories to tell. A feeling of escaping from the monotony of work to the fresh air, with nothing to worry about other than the freedom of where tomorrow’s hiking would take us. And there was a glass of wine or two on hand to toast to that.
There is nothing equivalent in the US. There are some basic mountain huts in Colorado but they are just an itty bitty step up from backpacking, the main difference being a roof over your head vs carrying your tent. Nothing where you can be treated to a good meal and bed at the end of a day’s hiking in the mountains. That is, until Hayden Mountain Backpacking Lodge came along. It’s early days for HMBL and unfortunately no other hikers on the night we hiked in and stayed over. But that remote sense of being far from the beaten track, having walked in on your own two feet (one of those feet being, for me – let’s face it, a little delicate to say the least), had that same element of accomplishment and remoteness without hardship.
With the benefit of time, we spent a few days roadtripping the route home, instead of the mad rush to do a thousand miles in a day and a half. After working our way through Colorado via Crested Butte and Ouray, we hit up Moab in Utah.
After the blues and greens of Colorado lakes and mountains, Utah is very orange, red and brown. If you’re ever doing one of those pictures where the pixels are made from individual photos, Utah could be your staple for those sandy ochre tones. Arches National Park was first on the list but unfortunately had limited cycling options. Luckily we’ve been there before, so didn’t feel like we were missing out, and the nearby cycle paths offered ample miles of alternatives.
Dead Horse Point State Park was a new one on us. And definitely worth a visit if you’re in the area. The western rim trail offered stunning views and an awesome walk for me while Darren hit up some mountain biking trails.
Last but not least on the way home was Zion national park.
The most fabulous aspect of Zion is that much of it is closed off to traffic, allowing only shuttle buses and bikes to use the road. Yes, you read that right – bikes. Genius idea. What an experience to cruise along the virtually empty roads surrounded by sheer rock walls of awesomeness.
Again, the best advice I can give is to go early. The US National Parks are a downfall of their own success. As we were leaving, the park was starting to look like a zoo. With humans as the exhibits.
Go early… or do yourself a favor and go to a state park instead. Go early… or go home. Or be like us. Go early AND go home. Destination California.
You might wonder what on earth I can find to write about a place we’ve visited so many times before. Frankly I’m wondering the same… it might be mostly photos!
As a reminder, Frisco is where it all started. Back in the deep dark Covid days of Summer 2020 – our first experience working remotely at a co-working office together and our first three month road trip. Fast-forward to 2023 and this will be trip #5 to Frisco!
Given we’re staying in one place for a month this time instead of traveling around, we opted for the more permanent Airbnb option, sans-BaseCamp. (Sorry BaseCamp!). Our previous Frisco trips had us camping at Peak One & Pine Cove campgrounds, right on the reservoir peninsular – outdoor living with picture postcard views. So we weren’t about to slum it in a back of beyond apartment – a lake/reservoir view was number one on our list of requirements. Space, we could compromise on (and we did), but not the view. And so it was we ended up in Dillon, the next town over to Frisco. And this was the view from our balcony.
Funnily enough, we spent a fair amount of time on our balcony.
We arrived in Colorado just in time to celebrate my birthday 🙂
As luck would have it, there happened to be a beer festival on in nearby Breckenridge. There was me in a ‘boot’, having had my foot diagnosed with a stress fracture, and there was this great (and free!) bus triangle, which came almost but not quite close enough to our place for me to hobble there. Turns out everyone’s having far too much fun out hiking, biking, paddle boarding and the like to think that driving for Uber is a good thing to do on a weekend. Which made logistics a bit of a challenge.
Whilst Dillon was our weekend and evening base, it was back to Frisco for work. We were welcomed back to EVO3 – the co-working office, like old friends by Aaron, the owner. Constant reminders of the outdoors and beer on tap. What’s not to love.
Just because I had a dodgy foot, there was no reason for Darren to miss out on his morning outdoor fun and games, so he squeezed in a few cool bike rides before work.
Me? I enjoyed a lazy few weeks where my mornings consisted of a bit of lie in (like normal people?) before starting work at 8am. And the odd scenic morning wander.
But my invalid state didn’t stop us getting out and about for a few scenic drives…
The imaginatively named peaks surrounding this area start at Peak 1 just behind Mount Royal and Mount Victoria in Frisco. Up they go towards Breckenridge, Peak 2, Peak 3… etc. We did a 4X4 scenic drive in the truck up the Peak 9 road from Breckenridge up high into what is prime ski country in the winter.
There’s something quite cool about going over the Continental Divide. And we hadn’t been able to attempt Independence Pass with the BaseCamp, no trailers allowed on windy mountain hairpin roads (and for good reason!).
One thing I’m very much not impeded from doing is a boat ride. I can sit on Aaron’s boat chilling out with a cocktail, as he obligingly tours us around Dillon reservoir, as well as I ever could. Every time is different and it’s the weather challenges that kick the level of adventure up a notch.
No boat ride is complete without a little trip to the Tiki Bar, a very low key container bar at Dillon marina that punches above its weight in awesome cocktails. It also happens to be our local.
And then there’s our other favorite haunt. Outer Reach Brewery in Frisco has a mountain view that you never tire of, a wide range of IPAs to choose from, and a thai franchise that specializes in the most delicious fried chicken. Just go easy on ’the bird’ sauce or it will blow your head off.
Not forgetting Prosit, if you’re a fan of German beer and sausages. Which we are!
We were surrounded by the outdoors – bombarded with stunning lakeside views and breathing the fresh clear mountain air. And so I have to admit to being a tad frustrated at the no hiking/ no running rule. Bring on my savior – the electric bike!
You could say things escalated pretty quickly. I believe it was Darren’s suggestion initially for me to rent an electric bike one afternoon. With no intention or expectation that this would lead to me buying one. But I was sold that quickly. As I felt the wind rush past me, the speed gave me a sense of freedom that had been somewhat lacking the last few weeks. I was finally able to appreciate the Colorado I know and love.
And so by the following weekend I had my very own Specialized Como Class 1 e-bike, complete with Integrated Gear Hub. Without getting too technical, this means the gears feel like they’re on a smooth sliding scale, no annoying clicking or clunking or dropping of the chain.
Como, my Como, you have given me a new lease of life. I didn’t think I could love a bike more than my California beach cruiser, but I was wrong. I guess there’s a time and a place.