Naseby

8/8 to 8/9: Weekend in Naseby


A guys' weekend. Time away from the civilizing influences of the womenfolk.

Right - I know what you're thinking. Craziness... unbridled rude behavior with bad jokes, belching and a general reversion to near cave man life.

Uh... let's just say our trip was the exact opposite. (Well, there was a fair amount of belching. And the odd fart, but that was about it.)

Dave planned the weekend, arranging for me and his friend Tom to roll up to Naseby, a charming small town in the mountains about 2 hours out of Dunedin. After almost convincing Drea to abandon the wedding preparations to come out, we hit the road around 9, and had a good drive through some of the smaller towns and the many (many!) sheep pastures that dot the New Zealand countryside. It was one of those drives that even if it wasn't on every tourist's list, was even more special in that I really got a sense of the South Island well off the tourist trail. My favorite current analogy is that it is a lot like Northern California, with the snow-capped Sierras looming behind... but even prettier.

On a geekiness level, day 1 was probably an 8 out of 10. We got set up at our cabin, where I was promptly assaulted by the owner's cute kids with wooden swords.

Then, it was a quick stroll around the town, where we found the local curling and ice luge establishment. Seriously. Strange but cool combination.

We lucked out and were able to get an hour in on the luges - where I had a remarkable lack of success. The main goal is to not hit the wooden sides and cruise, somewhat under control, to the finish. I never really got that, bashing up against all the sides and drawing some giggles from the watching womenfolk. Insult to injury? Dave and Tom were pretty dang good, and then the 10-13 year old volunteers proceeded to zoom down without a care in the world.



Somewhat humbled, we rolled back to town, grabbed a sandwich and killed some beers at the local cafe, then headed into the hills for some disc golf - NZ style.

Forget the nice chainlink baskets that most SF disc golfers are used to... this was considerably more rustic, and fun. A typical hole? "Throw around the big tree, then throw it under the no parking sign 100 meters down the road." Good times - with the highlight being Dave's disc oh so nearly falling down a big crevice, which he then promptly made an amazing shot to win the hole and a beer wager.

Then, exhausted from our manly exertions, it was time to head into town for a pub dinner.

Well, first, there was a trampoline that simply HAD to be used...




Once we got into the pub, it was all about good beer, surprisingly good gastropub style food... and Settlers of Catan.




Let's just say we got some bemused looks from the staff and locals. One stout girl even grunted, and opined "I'd rather go huntin'" We weren't in cosmopolitan Dunedin anymore...

The next day was more of the same... we got to try the exhilarating, heart-pounding inducing sport that is curling. For those of you who don't know, imagine a larger game of bar shuffleboard, played on ice, with each player pushing 20lb rocks with handles to hopefully land within a series of circles for points.

Now, all heckling aside, it was actually really fun, and surprisingly difficult. The margin of error between falling far short, or going too far and banging the outer barrier is verrrry slight.






Plus, for fun, we were shown how to do the cool slide/release maneuver... Dave, alas, was never quite able to stick the landing:



The other funny bit was that the NZ Youth Championships were going on beside us, so there were teams of surprisingly intense teenagers who actually knew what they were doing. To the onlookers in the gallery above, let's just say there was a very clear talent drop-off!

Another round of disc golf, then it was back to Dunedin. Our journey was slowed slightly by a herd of sheep, that flowed around our car without a hitch. My favorite was this free spirit - who stubbornly decided to go his own way, and went up and over his buddies...





The rest of the day was pretty relaxed - I had another amazing burger at Velvet Burger (Grilled mango and chili sauce of all things), then caught the shuttle to Invercargill... way, way south, in order to catch the morning ferry to Stewart Island in the morning.

Invercargill... doesn't really have a lot to recommend it besides as a transport junction. It's the furthest large town in NZ, and faces Antarctica a long, long long ways away. Not a whole lot going on - the social life seemed to revolve around boy racer cars and loud music. But the plus side? I had a hostel room to myself at Sparky's then a surprisingly good spicy pizza before turning in...