There was no real rush to get going on what would be the second-to-last departure – my Tour was drawing to a close. Which was just as well, as the two most challenging stretches were still in store. The roads were relatively benign, the conditions not.

It was a cool, crisp morning as I set off shortly before sunrise. It was chillier than I initially thought as I climbed up out of Wanaka to the bottom of the Cardrona Valley – this wouldn’t have been a problem, but it was over an hour before the sunlight made it over the hills and onto the road. This was more than enough time for me to get very cold – my extremities were the worst. As I tried to put more layers on, my hands were in such pain and so stiff I couldn’t even grip a zipper. There was much rejoicing as the sun finally hit me and the worst pain I had for the whole route disappeared with the shade.

Having driven past it a fair few times, I’d never actually been in the iconic Cardrona Hotel. The kitchen was just opening, so I clunked in with my bike shoes on the old wooden floorboards and got another cooked breakfast and rested awhile to recover from the previous two hours.

The route was heading up the Crown Range Road to the highest point of the Tour – only a shade over a thousand metres above sea level. It was a steady climb and only kicked into a ten percent gradient for the last couple of kilometres. There was plenty of traffic going between Queenstown and Wanaka – but it was no problem as the road got tighter and steeper.

The Cardrona Valley narrows.

From the top – that road was a lot of fun blasting down in the sun.

The other side, being even steeper than most of the climb, was proper fast – there was a big organised group riding up not looking like they were having much fun. I made sure they knew I was having a great time – constantly ringing my bell whenever I passed some of the multitudes. I’m sure that wasn’t really appreciated, but I was having a grand time.

Queenstown off in the distance.

Arrowtown a fair bit closer.

The road flattened for a while and we missed the series of big hairpins by turning off and taking an off-road track that plummeted to Arrowtown. From there I was back on the familiar & excellent cruisy Queenstown cycle trail network. The rider I’d glimpsed leaving Arrowtown as I was also doing so, turned out to be Evan – so it was good to ride with him a bit more into the craziness that is Queenstown.

Cousins David and Mary (more like third-cousins-once-removed, but cousins will do) were waiting for me at the Earnslaw terminal. The weather forecast didn’t look good for the next day, so I booked a ticket in two hours’ time to make the most of the current fine weather. A very enjoyable lunch was spent discussing the Tour and family news, before stocking up for the evening’s ride and lazing on the grass while David looked at new cars. It was time to say goodbye and I was excited to be going on the Earnslaw for the first time.

Another quintessential New Zealand tourist experience I was doing for the first time on this trip, the TSS Earnslaw has been sailing the waters of Lake Wakatipu for over a century. In days gone by it was an important transportation link around the lake – particularly to the remote stations. Nowadays it mostly ferries tourists, and occasionally cyclists, to Walter Peak Station and back.

Nonetheless, it is one of the oldest working steam ships in the world and with all the interesting history and engineering involved, I thoroughly enjoyed the trip over. I was a little concerned when the captain broadcast that we were heading into a sou-westerly as that would mean a headwind for me later on. The voyage was calm enough and having appreciated the scenery on the trip over, it was time to get amongst it as I rode off from the tourist-chaos just after four-thirty. I hoped to get at least to Mavora Lakes and camp before the rain rolled in. Apparently beautiful, this was another part of the country I’d neglected.

Goodbye mad Queenstown.

Original Bourdon instrumentation!

It turned out the wind was really whipping down the lake from the north and following the lay of the land – so the undulating section of gravel road west was into a fair breeze. But turning south away from the lake to up the Von River, I suddenly had a very helpful tailwind. Following the river there was a lot of large roaming stock; when they ran across the road as a herd, it was a little unnerving.

Looking up the northern section of Wakatipu towards Glenorchy.

There was a reasonably steep climb to get out of the valley and onto a large grassy plateau – but I hardly noticed its severity as the wind had really picked up and pushed me up. A storm was brewing as clouds rolled in while I made good time across the flats. It was beautiful riding with the plains and mountains contrasting against the evening sky.

About the only spot of sunlight I saw that evening.

Crossing into Southland, I was over the watershed and the road descended. It descended a lot really – for most of sixty kilometres. I reached the turn off to Mavora Lakes and it was decision time. I really wanted to see them, but I knew a storm was coming and I’d have to camp in it; on the other hand, it wasn’t raining at that time and the wind was kind – I chose to ride on, after a very light dinner.

The wind really picked up as darkness fell and I was getting fair blown along – this was excellent! After some rather chunky gravel roads and a bit of undulation, I missed a turn in the route off the road. Thankfully, I didn’t miss it by much; but finding the correct route was very difficult in the dark. There were no roads to go down – it turned out it was a very new cycle trail all the way to Mossburn, that was very poorly signed (I don’t think it was marked at all).

Quickly reaching the Oreti River, the cycle trail followed it, more or less, all the way to Mossburn. By now the wind was bordering on gale force; the route twisted around various fields and other features. Whenever it turned into the wind I was almost brought to a standstill. However, upon turning south-east again I’d suddenly be up to a great speed without even pedaling. It was mad, but as quite a lot of the trail was past large trees swaying all over the place, it started to get a bit scary!

Eventually I rolled into Mossburn at eleven o’clock and the storm was not letting up. There’s not much of anything in Mossburn and with nothing organised, I would have to sleep outside arriving at that hour. I thought I had the legs to keep going to Winton, but with the storm strengthening I didn’t think it wise. Concerned my tent would not go up easily or stay in one piece once erected, I found a balcony of some rugby clubrooms that was sheltered from the wind and decided to sleep there. It was a good decision; I lay my head knowing I’d only a hundred and forty kilometres to ride the following day to complete this fantastic journey. Little did I know…