Border crossing

After another too short night, we hear the mountains calling today. Carsten has chosen the Ben Lomond Track. 1400 meters of altitude to the summit. My enthusiasm was limited. The compromise was to cover the first 300 meters of altitude with New Zealand's first cable car, operated since 1967.

Still, even with the compromise, my mood was at a very low point. But what wouldn't I do for my darling.

I, the hiker before the Lord. Untrained, too heavy and probably dressed wrong, I mutate into a chamois?

On the first ascent, I already thought "you should have practiced in the Deister or done more endurance sports". But I didn't. The walks in Australia were not sustainable for my condition either. I tried so hard.

To acclimate, a piece through the forest.

Then suddenly, after the pulse was already racing, it went downhill.

That had to be climbed all over again. And then the steadily ascending path began.

Time indicated to the ridge: 1.5 hours, to the summit: 2.5 hours. Great views.

Curve after curve the path wound its way towards the summit. In my snail's pace, I put one foot in front of the other.

Interrupted by countless "enjoy the view stops"😜.

(By the way, the view was really great). And always in the back of my mind that I'm slowing down Carsten. He says it's not a big deal, but still the guilty conscience is there.

It was torture. My heart rate was certainly far out of the fat burning zone. Headaches joined in. Carsten says they come from the beer yesterday, but I don't believe it. Anyway, an aspirin will probably fix it.

After 1 hour and 20 minutes, with headaches and slight nausea, and after the 2nd crying fit, I turned back. The performance limit of my untrained body had been reached.

It probably wasn't far to the ridge, but I didn't care. Carsten continued on his own, I descended.

Although descending also has its pitfalls. Braking all the time is tiring too. Just in a different way. I've been looking forward to that "uphill" part at the end. But when I reached it, I cursed it.

At some point, I was back at the cable car, stinking like a puma, sweaty and happy to have made it. And I'm also a bit proud of myself, because I have beaten the inner pig dog quite often.

Yesterday, while having beer, I wondered what all these young guys (between 20-30 years old, I would say) are doing here. Today I saw them in abundance. Hiking and biking.

Here's a short message for my dear colleague Holger: "Well Holger, if the Alps ever get too boring for you, you can do great mountain biking here in Queenstown.

Carsten, without me, continued, and he says it may have been only 20 minutes to the ridge, which means at Carmen pace, at least 30 minutes.

The view was supposed to be sensational. The photos confirm that.

We celebrated our reunion with a cup of coffee.

Now we're going to take the mountain home, with a glass of wine or a can of beer in the hot tub

and tonight we'll eat a delicious leg of lamb. What more could one want.

Let's see if I can still move later.