Deep Freeze

The starship Enterprise surely wouldn't have gotten away with it and if it did, the actors would get workman's comp. But here in New Zealand I had to settle for a bag of frozen peas.

The 'space-age' sliding doors were my nemesis today as I strolled into the 'Count Down Grocery' unaware of the EXIT sign hanging above my head. With no pressure plate beneath me to signal the electrons to hold their own, the doors came slamming inward. I must have been quite a spectacle standing in the frozen foods section with a bag of peas decorating my swelling knee and another glued to my forearm. "Just insuring their freshness," I told one woman giving me a quizzical eyebrow frown. In the dairy room it was another quick deep freeze and a few more sideways looks.

I'd tried to be as nonchalant as possible while studying the yogurt options with a half pound of frozen butter adhered to my leg. Just as the butter was starting to feel a bit soft around the edges, I put it back. "No, not ripe yet," I stated and walked out. I'm probably not helping improve the American image.

Despite the colorful lumps I was growing, I managed a walk in the evening to keep my knee from stiffening. But by late evening a limp had developed and John began question our hike to Little Mount Peel in the morning.

What a trooper I was. When the lump on my knee wasn't any bigger in the morning and it's psychedelic coloring hadn't intensified, I said I'd do the hike. Naturally to prove my toughness I chose the steeper of the two trails to the top, where each step up the trail was on a 90 degree incline.

But sometimes even tough guys finish last. Two hours into the hike, I admitted defeat. "You know John, the clouds over there don't look promising." The peak loomed another 600 meters straight uphill. "I don't think we'll get good views from the peak," I said. There, I'd cleverly disguised my ulterior motive and he wouldn't scold me for having started with a sore knee.

"Your right, the clouds are rolling in up there," John said. "We probably should head back." Did he really think we should or did he sense my pain? I didn't ask; I just followed him along the ridge toward a distant farm road. "Maybe that's a short cut," he said.

Down was tough; by the time we reached flat land I was really hurting. We had come to a sheep station (read:ranch) and I stopped to snap a portrait of a ram. But I knew if I stopped too long, I might stiffen up and never make it back to the camp. "There are plenty of sheep all over New Zealand," I said. "I'll snap another later."

Back at camp I propped my leg up while John cooked dinner. "Good hike," he said as he stirred the rice.

"Absolutely," I said as I reached for a cold compress, "A good hike."