Story I wrote at the start of 2009 about the time I spent in Hamner just before Yule/Xmas.

1. During the middle of last week, I was visiting Hanmer Springs with my family. On the morning of the Wednesday, I decided to go mountain biking. My chosen route would take me around the hillside above Hanmer. I had spotted a cheap vendor hiring mountain bikes the day beforehand, so I set out for the business. When I arrived, I strolled around the numerous bicycle displays for a while. I chose to go with a full suspension mountain bike, for my time away that day. I went inside the business and inquired with the vendor about the terms, and subsequently hired one. The only one that was my size and had all the extras that I wanted, the vendor warned me, had not yet been checked over, for it had just been returned. I assured the vendor that it would be just fine, showing my naïvety to the possibility of consequential dangers. In a heedless mood, I proceeded to stash my unwanted belongings in the glove box of my car. I had parked my car in a carpark near the village centre. This was for my family to use if needed, with a spare key. I then cycled off towards the hillside. Unfortunately, due to the need to change directions for the stowing of my goods, I wandered off my chosen route. After some time I found my way back to where I had planned previously to go to. Although much to my disappointment, I found the route was rather hard going. This was due to the fact that the path was made out of light shingle, so I therefore found little traction. With the hillside above me, I decided to turn around, for I was sure to find a less intensive trail for myself. While cycling along I happened upon a track, which ran lightly along the side of a valley, parallel to a stream of clear complexion. With nought consideration, by bike I followed the footsteps of a man, which I could see far ahead in the distance. The smaller the gap became, as I made up the distance between us, the more I felt my resolve dissipate. With the heat and brightness of the sun; the buzzing and the biting of the insects; the heavy sweat rolling down my brow, I finally gave in, as I came upon him. I climbed/fell from my bike, and ran to the stream close by. I unceremoniously discarded my helmet to the wayside, and proceeded to cup water over my head, uninhibited by the man who was staring down at me. He had stopped; it seemed, in expectation of my presumed need to pass him. After totally drenching myself from the head up, I walked back up to the track at a much more moderate pace than when I came down. As I walked over to the tree I had leant my bike on, while trying to dry my head somewhat on my t-shirt, I noticed that the man who was walking the path was long gone. After I collected my helmet, I set forth once again unto the shroud of this unbeknown path. Following a sprint past multiple beehives that housed what seemed to be a legion of bees, I found myself at a fork in the track. A sign nearby said that the fork to my left went to
waterfall Lookout
. The fork to my right went to a picnic area, or so said the sign. Even though the fork to the right immediately crossed the stream via a bridge, and I was feeling adventurous, I chose the former. I automatically regretted this choice; the track became incredibly steep, to the point that I had to push the bike in those places. It became so steep, that I felt that I was spending more time hopping on and off my bike than moving forward. As I started to believe that I had had finally arrived at that damned
Waterfall Lookout
, I saw that it was just another fork, with yet another bridge. There too was the man from before, resting on the railing of the bridge, savouring the vista. When I approached, the man called out in a broad Australian accent
G'day
, I replied the same. He then told me that he was amazed that I had made it that far, and that it must have been very tough going. I replied that it was, and that it was like riding up a vertical cliff. He commented that back home in Australia, he had seen professionals nearly do the likes, and even ride off embankments much like the one next to us. I then told him that there must be something wrong with them, for their heads must not be right. I myself, I told him, could not at all do such a thing. The part of me that stops any ability of inflicting self-harm also stops me from doing such crazy things. He retorted that it is self-discipline, and the knowledge of ones own competency, that lets them push themselves to such extremes. He then asked me which way I was heading; I told that I felt both looked too extreme for me. He showed me on his map that I still had some way to go to get to the
Waterfall Lookout
. I told him I would have to turn around. As we said our adieus, he wished me luck; I did not think I needed it. I then set off once again. Thinking to myself, I wondered what to do with the rest of my time, as I still had a few hours till I needed to return my bike. I was sure I would find something. I found it much easier going on the way back, but I was still careful. I found that with even with both brakes on somewhat, I still had a lot of motion. As I slowly made my way back, I found my self going faster and faster, it seemed as if the brakes did not stop me one bit. I knew that if I did not push harder on the front brake, that I would hit the bridge. I also knew from years of mountain biking as a child, that over using the front brake is not a good idea. As soon as I pushed on the front brake, I felt myself go over the handlebars and go down the bank. As I came to a rest, I found myself nearly in the water, wrapped around a tree. I painfully climbed back to the track, where my bike still was, much to my luck. I had badly cut my knee, but that was all it seemed. My knee was a bloody mess, with dirt and dust in the wound. I knew it was best if I clean it up, but I had not brought any water. I moved over to the other side of the bridge, for this bank had much less of an incline than the other. I quickly washed and cleaned the blood and dirt away, the dirt left but the bloody was soon again there. I decided to brave it and try and get back to Hanmer. I painfully got back on my bike and went across the picnic area, where I spotted a dirt road. This I followed back to Hanmer, while trying to forget the people staring at me riding along with a cut up leg. I could see from the outset that my best option was to return to the house where my family was staying. I was lucky, as my family was home. After I explained what happened while getting a lot of worried looks, my sister took charge. My sister gave me a quick antiseptic treatment, for she had been a vet nurse up until a few months prior. She then took the bike back, and bought some bandages, to stop the bleeding. After she returned, she set to work by bandaging my knee and upper leg, and wrapping medical tape around the edges. From the way she was acting, I felt she was thinking of me as a sick animal, and not as a person. After she had finished, she told me how she had told off the people at the bike hire business, for giving me a bike with bad brakes. She then pulled out a slip of paper; she told me it was a 2 hour gift certificate for next time I go mountain biking in Hanmer. I somehow know that there will not be another mountain biking adventure in Hanmer!