All posts by bpheasant

bikepacking, bikes, event, GPS, NZ

Tour Aotearoa – My Day Sixteen – Wanaka to Mossburn

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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…

bikepacking, bikes, event, GPS, NZ

Tour Aotearoa – My Day Fifteen – Pine Grove to Wanaka

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Steeling myself for another long day of quiet West Coast highway, it was about five minutes down the road in the dark before it started dumping rain again. But as it got light, the eventually rain scarpered and was not seen again in force for rest of my Tour – huzzah! I’d timed my start and ride well to arrive at the salmon farm cafe for the supposed opening time of eight o’clock – the first opportunity for some decent food that day. Alas, it was a bit of a wait around and the six or so others from Pine Grove duly arrived. I was still there at nine, everyone else except Brett from Tauranga having left – I was happy to wait for the first full English breakfast of the South Island. I was feeling a bit deprived of decent breakfasts.

It was good to have someone else to ride with after the solo, rainy efforts of the last few hundred kilometres. As I grew up near where Brett lives, there was plenty besides bikes & Tour to talk of. We made it back to the coast and climbed up to the next checkpoint.

Knight’s Lookout – it was now a lovely day, although the sandflies came out to feast.

Flying downhill we were back next to the beach battling a strong onshore wind. As always, my slight frame left me at a disadvantage compared to other bigger riders. I think Brett did quite a bit of the leading, not that it mattered with a crosswind. Progress at times slowed drastically, but it wasn’t all bad news – I was pretty sure this wind would help us up the Haast river valley and over the pass. Just as we came into Haast Township we had my closest near-miss with traffic for the whole trip – feeling like we almost got sideswiped by a tour bus. But the crazy wind may have made it seem worse than it was.

First-lunch was in Haast, then as I was about to depart I realised I’d not eaten enough, so stopped to buy second-lunch too. Progress had been good for me, about ninety kilometres by midday – there was a chance I could get to Wanaka and keep the hope of a Thursday finish alive. I’d been right about the wind, we had a big tailwind up the Haast valley – it was tremendous. Fifty kilometres was very flat, only gaining a hundred metres – Mark from Waihi caught up to me and we made good time in very nice conditions. There were so many great waterfalls to spy – so much easier to do so from a bike. Spotting waterfalls was almost as easy as playing spot the rental vehicle – that is, very easy when over half the vehicles are either campervans, or hired Toyota Corollas and RAV4s.

As the valley and highway turned south a few of us congregated to eat and chat before the climbing started in earnest. I’d driven this road shortly before my move north last winter, so had a fair idea of what was coming.

Heading for Haast Pass.

Looking back down the Haast valley.

Crossing the Haast River, the climbing begins in earnest shortly after.

At least the climb is shorter than one expects, which is just as well as it climbs over three hundred metres in less than four kilometres. The steepest kilometre, having a gradient of over twenty percent, is near crossing the thundering river at the Gates of Haast. There’s a brief respite before the final kick up to the pass and then all of a sudden one has left the West Coast. The transformation is swift and quite incredible – instead of swollen with raging water, all the creek beds are bone dry.

We followed the Makarora River down to the township for more food – the strong wind at our back helping appreciably.

Approaching the head of Lake Wanaka – great to be back around the southern lakes.

There’s a slight climb over The Neck between Lakes Wanaka and Hawea – but I didn’t mind because I knew the view would be grand as the sun sunk on a stunning day.

As so often on this Tour, any discomfort was easily overridden by all we were experiencing – views like this certainly helped.

Down the western shore of Hawea would have been nice as a flattish ride, but it’s not that sort of terrain – there were a few good sharp climbs before we finally rolled into Hawea. Mark, Brett and the rest of their group were staying in Hawea the night, the good company was appealing but I thought I still had a bit more left. How this was the case is a testament to improving stamina thanks to the tour – I’d already done over two hundred kilometres and a few decent hills for the day.

Looking back up Lake Hawea as the sun begins to set on another great day’s riding.

I knew the cycle trail to Wanaka well enough and thought I could get to the supermarket before it closed at nine – necessary as the batteries in my SPOT tracker had died somewhere over the pass. The trail whizzed by as I put in more effort than I should have. The multitudes of wild rabbits scurried out of the way – it always disturbs me to see how many of these pests are around Otago. Past Albertown and around the headland I was in town in time to stock up and grab a huge burger and chips from Red Star – tremendous. While I waited for that to cook there was enough time to get organised and reflect on another big day; the end of the adventure was getting disturbingly close, but it was still so fantastic, rewarding and exciting. Still well pleased to be fortunate to be out on a bike seeing so much, I slept very well that night.

bikepacking, bikes, event, GPS, NZ

Tour Aotearoa – My Day Fourteen – Hokitika to Pine Grove

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The rain hadn’t let up overnight, it had been downright heavy. As expected, nothing had dried, but wet clothes had to go on and one must venture out into the rain. But it was a slow start as I wanted to go to the store which didn’t open until eight o’clock – I needed a lot of food immediately and for the longer stretches of no services. The last leg of the West Coast Wilderness Trail is mostly a mix of gravel cycle path and gravel back roads following the coast line south-west.

It may have been damp, but I was very glad it wasn’t cold. I remember little of the hundred and forty-odd kilometre, nine hour ride to Franz Josef. It was wet and grey – but not unpleasant – as I rode past a mixture of sodden farms, and steep bush clad hills. For a lot of highway riding, the traffic is not at all heavy and I had no problems pottering along. The only incidents of note were twofold. The first being I rode past a Canadian cycle tourist that Steve and I had met and chatted to six weeks before west of Napier, on my last overnighter in preparation for the Tour. She’d obviously made her way to the bottom of the South Island and was riding back up the West Coast – recognition was not instantaneous, so we were well past each by the time I realised where I’d seen that face before.

The other happening of note was the most disturbing part of the whole trip. It was about nine in the morning and I was riding south along a long straight flat section. There had not been many people out in the steady rain, so I was surprised to see a runner in the distance. As I got within a few hundred metres, he looked to wearing a lot of white. Getting even closer it was obvious this guy was not wearing much at all – only trainers, white socks, a hat and glasses. This was most bemusing and as it was all a bit flabby and jiggly I was very pleased we were going in the same direction. I held my tongue until right beside the morning streaker and said a cheery “Good Morning”. Poor nutter seemed startled to be passed by a cyclist, on a cycle trail of all places, without warning. In the days following I learned a few other Tour riders had had a similar experience, often with the guy trying to get off the trail and hide in the bushes. Weird.

First photo stop of the day – the checkpoint at Lake Ianthe. I imagine it’s really nice, sometimes.

A big lunch stop and resupply in Harihari was most welcome before continuing into the wet, but gentle terrain that mostly skirted the bottom of the hills on the relatively flat farmland. Towards mid-afternoon the rain strengthened – but I was still warm, so pretty happy to keep grinning (quite literally, I wore a grin for much of the two weeks so thrilled was I with the experience) and bearing it.

A short detour off the highway was signposted as closed to public access, but in this weather – who would be around to enforce it? As the heavens opened completely, I took shelter under a covered walkway at a/the Franz Josef primary school and tried to work out how far I would get that day. My legs felt that they would be good for quite some time – even though I knew there were three steep hills to climb before Fox Glacier. But if I could push past Fox I’d be a much better chance for a Thursday finish – instead of the more likely Friday finish and then having to wait around in Bluff for a day or organise a trip into and out of Queenstown. Such permutations had been swimming around my mind almost constantly, there being little else to distract me from the rain.

I did know, thanks to the handy information all riders got, that there was a motel on the highway thirty-five kilometres past Fox Glacier. I’ve still no idea where that place really was or if there is a village there. I made a call and found that they had a cabin available – for some reason I booked it, in doing so committing to another four or five hours riding in the torrents coming from above. Letting Evan know I’d found a room for the night (they were apparently scarce in Fox) I could shelter no longer and headed off again.

I was pleased with how my legs coped with the three one-after-the-other steep hills – but even more grateful when I rolled into Fox township and found a pub with a big balcony I could use to make myself look less drowned before entering. Large burger devoured, I was suiting up again to receive lashings of rain when the only rider I’d seen since lunch strolled over. Brief chat and introduction over, I was a little less pleased in having had some sort of schedule imposed on me – good company seemed preferable to a soaking ride in the dark. But there was nothing for it, I was there to ride a bike and ride I must.

The off-road trail up to the glacier was really quite fun – I was not surprised to find I had the whole parking lot to myself. Also expected, I couldn’t see the glacier.

Only other photo of the day – and only because it was a checkpoint. Somewhere up there is Fox Glacier.

Another factor in persuading me to push on for the night was that from the glacier the road to the motels was generally downhill losing a couple of hundred metres to return me to sea-level. The rain was now pelting down as darkness fell. I can’t remember the last time I’d seen heavier rain, let alone been out riding in it for hours. It was strangely enjoyable and adventurous. Anything that looked like a waterway was full to overflowing. I had the weird experience of riding down a gentle slope and looking beside me to see the water in the ditch flowing the opposite direction – seemingly uphill. I didn’t think I was that tired.

Eventually “thirty-five kilometres from Fox Glacier” ticked over on my odometer and sure enough, there sprung a motel out of the sheets of water that made up my field of vision. The cabin handily had a big carport; once I evicted the small van and its freedom-camping residents, I was able to sort my bike and wet gear out – the tokens for the drier were well worth it. Evan even turned up, I wasn’t expecting to see him as I’d not heard back from him.

What a day – over two hundred kilometres of rain, the last sixty could be generously described as a constant downpour. But it was warm and I was pleased with the progress. It would have been disappointing to visit the West Coast and not have over three hundred kilometres of riding in the rain – at least, that’s what I’m telling myself. Sleep came easy, even if the cabin smelt a little funky as we tried to dry the non-drier clothes over heaters.

bikepacking, bikes, event, family, GPS, NZ

Tour Aotearoa – My Day Thirteen – Big River to Hokitika

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There was no way I was advocating a ride of the beautiful, yet very slippery, Waiuta track in the dark. So we got up at a normal hour and were riding around sunrise at about quarter past seven. It was a grey, damp morning as the cloud was low – but not wet enough to have to wear a jacket, nice.

Looking down to Big River from the hut; it’s not far from Reefton really, but feels a world away.

Within ten or so minutes we were on the boardwalk for another checkpoint.

Hopefully you can get a sense of the denseness of the forest that the trail goes through. Apparently residents of Big River used to walk two hours each way to Waiuta to go to the cinema on Sundays – they must have been desperate for some diversion.

This old mining pack track is open to bikes, but definitely not designed for bikes. It is very damp and every rock is slippery – and there are plenty of those. It was pretty slow progress to get up and continue along at about the same altitude for some kilometres.

This is a good bit of trail.

Suddenly, the trail is a creek bed. At times it looks other worldly.

Then it just becomes easier to push one’s bike up the creek.

At some stage, I’d let Adele go on ahead while I made some bike or luggage adjustment. It took me a little while to catch up. When I did, just the slightest distraction of seeing another rider was enough to remind me of the total concentration that this trail demands. Front wheel sliding and stopping suddenly was enough to send me flying off the bike and over the edge of the bank. It was by far my biggest fall of the Tour, but thankfully the landing was soft in amongst the ferns and no damage was done. I think Evan made the comment later it was nice to be going through there in the company of a doctor – I’d not considered that, but it was true.

The trail flattened out a bit and became less rocky. But there were still frequent creek crossings and one big washout that required a carry – I almost lost my bike, and myself, down the debris field. Oops.

The sun even tried to break through at some stage.

Eventually, we’d put enough work in and we were rewarded with a two-hundred metre drop in altitude. I was waiting at Adele’s car for a little while before it was quickly packed, goodbyes said and Adele took off to work. Even looking a month later, I’m a little sad that I can’t ride that trail more often – it’s rugged, it feels very remote and is in an area filled with fascinating mining history. What a fantastic day and a bit of intermittent bike adventuring with Adele.

Evan was keen to check out the old town of Waiuta – which is well worth it, as I’ve enjoyed poking around the mining and social relics before – so I carried on alone. The gravel road down out of the valley to Blackwater and Ikamatua was fast – so much better than the ride up when doing these trails in the other direction. To my delight, the little store in Ikamatua was open for second-breakfast. I think the storekeeper there had been doing well out of all these cyclists coming out of the Big River wilderness.

Crossing the Grey to the right bank, it was a very gradual descent (mostly) to the coast. Passing the turn-off to the Pike River memorial and then Blackball, I made reasonable time before a light rain set in. I was overly excited to be able to buy nashi pears from a roadside stall in Taylorville.

The whole NZ army did seem to be staying in a village hall along the way.

Stocking up and then eating lunch in Greymouth, it was then time to start the West Coast Wilderness Trail – the part of the South Island route I was most looking forward to riding. I’d heard it is absolutely stunning. It rained the whole trail and I saw little. I minded little as my easy and social start to the South Island was now over and I had to start putting in some bigger days. I’d gotten a text from Dad saying that he couldn’t actually pick me up on the day I was looking most likely to finish. The possible implications of this weighed heavily on my mind; it’s very easy to obsess when you’ve not much else to think about except ride, eat and sleep. I didn’t want to go slower as that would leave no rest before returning to work and I wanted to push myself a little bit. But finishing a whole day earlier would be a big effort, especially with all the rain forecast over the next few days. I continued to think this over, and over.

What I did see of the West Coast Wilderness trail was very nice and the riding is pretty easy – so I made good time in the rain. I hope I have the chance to ride it again and see more.

Easy riding into Kumara.

A reservoir out of the mist!

The trail took almost forty kilometres to climb only three hundred and fifty metres up and out of one valley, before dropping into the next valley and heading back to the coast again. The rain continued to fall as I descended for three hours – thankfully never cold – it was definitely very wet rain.

Probably the only steep-ish bit on the whole trail.

Out of the wilderness, to some degree, and along gravel roads for some time.

I was relieved to arrive in Hokitika before it got dark. Looking like the proverbial drowned rat, a friendly Subway was the easiest option for dinner. It was coming up to the Wildfood Festival and accommodation was at a premium – I was pleased when Evan turned up and confirmed he’d booked a cabin. I was even more thrilled when he let me sleep on the floor of his cabin. While only just over 180 km for day, none of it in the dark, and with little climbing – it felt like a big day with the rain for a hundred kilometres and the two hours to travel eleven kilometres to Waiuta. Almost everything was soaked, we hung as much as we could up to dry – without high hopes – and slept very well as the famous West Coast rain fell all night.

Another wet West Coast photo checkpoint, in Hokitika.