My newest favourite thing: Amisfield

To be fair, it’s probably not that new, because I’ve liked Amisfield for a while (frequently showing it off to our guests), but we went there for dinner last night and it sparked off a whole new appreciation.

The building is a fabulous design whose handsome schist walls, copper roof, redwood beams and clean, sloping lines reflect the early colonial cottages of the region. Nestled beside Lake Hayes, a single sheet of glass affords one of the most spectacular views across the Central Otago landscape, while the crackling wood fires keep things cosy.

We had opted for the ‘Trust the chef menu’ in which we are assured of exquisite dishes with fresh ingredients and subtle sauces so as not to overwhelm the flavour of the magnificent produce.

The staff were friendly, helpful, and knowledgeable: they matched wines for us; joked about our accents (the English chap was delighted to be able to offer us aubergines rather than eggplants); and pleasantly took the photo of the large group at the table next to us.

We began the night with bubbles, as you do. The Arcadia brut is one of the best sparkling wines I have ever drunk and one of my favourite ways to celebrate a special occasion. Our dishes arrived at our table on pewter-looking plates that made us feel as though we were at a medieval banquet.

To begin, we had whitebait lightly dusted in flour and then gently fried, served with rocket leaves and sourdough bread. This was followed by a plate of Parma ham, shavings of parmesan, and leaves of fragrant basil. The salmon with wilted greens, tomatoes and pine nuts continued the fishy theme and went superbly with a flinty Dry Riesling. The blend of citrus and spice cut cleanly through the fish oils and enhanced the experience perfectly.

We also had a plate of roasted aubergines, chickpeas, tomato, tahini and mint to share which was a simply delicious explosion of flavours. The pinot gris was sublime matched with the mini pot-roast chicken served with feta and tapenade. Side dishes of mixed leaves and the creamiest mashed potato you have ever tasted complemented the complex but subtle ‘each peach pear plum’ notes detected in the wine.

The portions were enough that we were satisfied but not satiated and, as neither of us are really pudding people, we finished off with a selection of the three desert wines. My favourite was the Lake Hayes Noble which was rich and sweet with a lemony zing that had me licking my lips all the way home.

I really enjoy this style of eating – it’s like tapas but the chef chooses whatever is freshest and best. There is no danger that you won’t like anything (you are asked about any dislikes or allergies at the beginning) so you can sit back, relax and know that you will be served the most sumptuous of treats.

Lake Hayes Women's Triathlon

The day of the Lake Hayes Women’s Triathlon was beautiful and sunny, dammit, so I couldn’t use the weather as an excuse not to enter!

I’ve done it a couple of times before – a long time ago when I was fit (2003 & 2004). Now I’m really not and it hurts to know that I had it and then I lost it. If ever there was a supportive and encouraging way to try and get back into it, however, it is the Southern Lakes Women’s Triathlon.

This is its 18th year and also incorporates a duathlon for those without the time or inclination to add another discipline to their training regime. In the past, starts have been fierce (I have been scratched, gouged, had my goggles kicked off and received a nosebleed) so it was a welcome addition to have two starts for the swimmers. We began on either side of the big tree and there were two buoys out in the lake so those on the left could swim round one and those on the right picked out the other.

I had swum in the lake the previous week and found that it was plenty warm enough. Also, the distance is only 300m so at current fitness levels, that should take me approximately 8 – 9 minutes. It takes me about that long to wrestle myself out of my wetsuit, so I decided not to wear it. The water really was fine and although my feet went numb, they always do.

The run up to the bikes is the toughest part of the course – you’ve just come out of the water; you’re disorientated; you’re not breathing properly and you’re faced with a gravel hill to run up in bare (numb) feet. Because the entrance and exit point is the same, there was a flag to run around to make sure that everyone went the same distance. My transition was not too bad and I was soon on to my bike and out on the course. Here I merged with all the other disciplines – those who had paddled kayaks and those who had run 1½km as a start to their duathlon.

The bike ride begins with a gravel track that I travelled over very gingerly – I don’t want to puncture my tyres at the very beginning of the bike leg. (One girl got three punctures on this ride.) This would be the only 100 yards or so where I would have been pleased to be riding a mountain bike.

When I watched the World Triathlon Champions in 2003 (the swim was right here in this lake), a Canadian girl in mid-race mode yelled out at us, ‘Where’s the mountain lion?’ At least that’s what I thought she said – it made some sort of sense that in her adrenalin-fuelled delirium she thought she was back home and being pursued by big bobcats. It turns out she was asking the whereabouts of the ‘mount line’ – the point at which you are officially meant to get on and off your bike. I think of this every time I do a triathlon now, and it makes me smile – you find your pleasure where you can...

I like the bike ride on this course – there are no hills, which is always a positive for me. Today there was no wind and the speeds could crank up quite high. Generally drafting is illegal in triathlons so, although this event was pretty low-key in that regard and no mention was made of it in the briefing, I decided against doing it. Not so a couple of others (the only person who passed me on the bike leg did so after sitting on my wheel for a good third of the leg) but that’s up to them.

Back having racked the bike, changed shoes and run round the flag again, it was off on the run leg. Now, this does have hills. It’s on a section of the excellent track that circumnavigates Lake Hayes. By now it was hot and the gravel track was dusty, making it hard to breathe, and it felt like a bit of a struggle.

I was pleased to take on some water at the turnaround. Incidentally, there was a bottle of water in our race packs, but I would have preferred cups at the finish – when you cross the line on a hot day you want a drink immediately, not after you’ve found your vehicle and rummaged around in your bag. This is merely a minor quibble – everything else about the event was very well organised.

I walk around this lake nearly every Friday with my friend and I never think it is particularly tough. Admittedly we usually stop to throw sticks for her dopey dog, and there wasn’t a lot of that going on today. The views are still breathtakingly scenic, however, which could be another handy excuse for lack of breath.

I am not a runner and admire those who are – some of these ladies were skipping past me on the way back when I was grinding my way out. They looked fresh and shiny in their running kit while I was a heaving sweaty lump, and I was gasping by the time I thankfully saw the finishing chute.

We waited and applauded as others came in – each with their own personal achievement. That’s what I like about this event; everyone has a goal and they are all different.

Some are national triathletes down from Auckland to get in some extra training and win the race in what the papers described as a ‘blistering pace’; some are simply comparing their times with the previous year.

Some are entering with a group of friends to have fun and work on their fitness; some are hoping to win a spot-prize (the girl who won the great prize of a Giant bike generously donated by Veritgo didn’t actually own one previously).

Some see it as a perfect opportunity to try out their first ever triathlon or duathlon and they are right to choose it. Everyone there has done well, and by the smiles on the faces, they have had fun too!

Lake Hayes Mistake

A couple of weeks ago I had occasion to go to a newish housing development – Lake Hayes Estate – and it got me thinking about homes and communities.

This place was originally established as ‘affordable family housing’ although with an average sale price of $604,000, I’m not sure about their definition of the word ‘affordable’; a vile subjective term anyway.

Some of the houses are well-appointed and incorporate some intelligent examples of design. Others are simply hideous. And they are all lined up in neat little rows with double garages and tidy lawns.

They are surrounded by mountains and sunk down in a dip so you can’t see from the road, which means they can’t see the beautiful lake for which they are named. In fact, many of them can’t see anything except next-door’s fence.

So I suppose their occupants go to work all day in Queenstown, or possibly Arrowtown, while their children are at schools or kindergartens. They come home to their fortress, pull the curtains, and put their feet up, happy in their nuclear, suburban, Stepford Wives existence.

When I was there I didn’t see a soul, apart from the rubbish collector. There is a park where children can play, which is laid with Astroturf and fenced off from predators. There is no café, there are no shops and there is certainly no pub.

When we moved to our house, one of the reasons for choosing the location was so that we could walk to the local village and go to the pub. I realise this may not be everyone’s priority, but what happens when they run out of bread or milk? They have to get in a car and drive to the supermarket. It’s not the sort of place that encourages ‘thinking outside the box’ (another vile expression). Living in one? That’s another matter.

Neither does it encourage community. The propaganda calls it a township, which to me has sinister connotations of segregation and apartheid. There are walkways so you can pop round to your friend’s house, if they live in the same estate as you. As it is not on the way to anywhere, the roads are quiet so the kids could ride their bikes, if there were any in evidence. It is safe and secure and sterile. We used to call these sorts of places cul-de-sacs, or dead ends.

William Morris promoted the idea of community or fellowship – “Fellowship is heaven, and lack of fellowship is hell; fellowship is life, and lack of fellowship is death; and the deeds that ye do upon the earth, it is for fellowship’s sake ye do them.”

But there is no evidence of fellowship here. No laughter or conversation. But wait, I saw one – a tree house in a walnut grove. It was a prime example of youthful enthusiasm and breaking the rules in a totally harmless way. It will probably be removed soon. This is not a place for fun, learning, or exploration.

Sadly these days people are forming ‘communities’ with virtual strangers on their electronic antisocial networking pages. They would rather stay in their house with the metaphorical drawbridge firmly raised rather than meet folk for a pint down the pub. The clean, barren impersonality of Lakes Hayes Estate may well be the way of the future. I hope not. I think it’s a big mistake.