But I miss you most of all

The inevitable has happened. I wore a fleece jacket to classes yesterday. Despite the sunny days over the past week during which I had no trouble pretending that late April was full spring as usual, the color of the trees and the leaves they've began to shed (excepting the eucalyptus and pines, of course) and the sudden change in ambient temperature has incentivized changes in clothing choices as well as admission that it is autumn in Canberra.

Mira, my IB companion, sincerely regretted the shorts and flip-flops she'd chosen for the predawn hours of Anzac Day; as the group of us shuffled into the bleachers that had been set up around the War Memorial at the starry hour of 4:30 am, she realized that she'd just about lost feeling in her toes. We sought out hot drinks, though, as the hundreds of seats for the Dawn Service continued to fill, and those that got there too close to the start at 5:30 stood at the top of the ampitheatre-like set up. The sun didn't rise till nearly the end of the half hour ceremony, the most light coming rather from the battery-powered candles, which had been passed out at entrance gates, as wreaths were laid, prayers and reminders of the spirit of Anzac were read, hymns and the national anthem sung, and a section of "In Flander Field" read by a young boy. I heard a kookaburra's laugh for the first time, from the trees somewhere behind us, during the moment of silence. It reminded me a bit of a chimp. The majority of B&G residents that had gone seemed to be curious international students-- one from the Netherlands, Sweden, Colombia, and of course the US. However, Mira explained that most students have probably been to the Dawn Sevice many times before as it is held in pretty much every home town, and then she gave us Anzac biscuits.

Now the short week following a public holiday weekend is half way gone, and most uni students (myself included) are spending more time with the books as the "20-80 rule" kicks in-- 20% of assessment (graded assignments or tests) in the firt term, 80% in the second.

Slipping in runs at the ends of days, I'm passed on the bike path by both commuters, well-equiped with panniers, bells, and blinkies for their daily ride from civic back to the suburbs, and mountain bikers, tearing into the evening with camelbaks and headlights. I know where they're headed and itch to join. I went to Stromlo three times in a week after a first ride there.

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Note: The title is really the line that comes after this one, but that would have been too easy. Did anyone sing it in their head?

Aotearoa

Christina's and my campervanning-around-New Zealand venture went surprisingly... smoothly. We didn't miss flights, ferries, or buses, run out of gas, get terribly lost, or any other things that become little memorable horror stories on vacations. I guess I shouldn't have prefaced that with "surprisingly," but... you know.
Anyway, we did what NZ tourists do: lapped up the scenery along the West Coast of the South Island-- snow covered peaks and glaciers mixed in with jagged, rain forest covered mountains lining an unfettered coast fed by opaque minty-gray colored streams and pools-- doing some shorter and longer hikes to take more of it in along the way. We spent several hours in a cute town called Hokitika to see people carving NZ "green stone" (jade) and an animal observatory that had a nocturnal kiwi house. Kiwis are pretty ridiculous looking things.

Queenstown is recommended by most as a must-make stop in NZ. It is certainly in beautiful place (apparently a good deal of LOTR filming took place in the "Rembarkables," the mountains at the base of the lake the city borders) and set up very well for tourists. It kind of reminded me of an overgrown Northstar village, though, and my favorite places of the trip actually came in the days of travel directly before and after it-- Wanaka and the Fiordlands.

After waking up to sunrise over Lake Hawea (we'd thought it was Lake Wanaka when we pulled in... it was dark), we'd actually made our way over Wanaka. It's at the edge of Mt. Aspiring National Park, and apart from having its own beautiful lake, has hikes that look out in different directions at Mt. Cook (tallest peak in NZ) and Mt. Aspiring. We did one of these hikes, Roy's Peak, and instead of more words to describe the results of a 2-3 hour climb, pictures:



Te Anu is the stop-in, get gas, figure out what you're doing point for the Fiordlands. The afternoon after leaving Queenstown, we stopped in, got gas, and signed up for sea kayaking on Milford Sound the next morning. The drive out to Milford (broken into two parts, having camped at a remote conservation site part way out) was breathtaking in it's own right. It starts out with serene lakes, meadows, and dense forests, before opening up to serious mountains that probably put others to shame. Kayaking on the Sound (which is actually misnamed; as it was carved by a glacier, not a river, it should be Milford Fiord) was so much fun. The wind was a worry at points so we couldn't go as far out as they usually do, but we made it around a bend that opened up to a deceivingly long stretch of dark water with Mitre Peak rising on the left, water falls on either side, and a small mountain-island in the center; I wasn't disappointed. Couldn't take pictures at that point since the waves/wind demanded paddling, but here's when we went up a calm side river a bit:

(Obviously that's not us, but we were all wearing the same black thermals, fluorescent wind jackets, and goofy fleece hats, so who's to tell?)

The drive back up the East Coast to Christchurch reenforced the lesson that New Zealand has very, very many cows and very, very, very many sheep.

P.S. - Clicking a picture opens it up bigger in a new window.