A good night to be inside a hut perched on the side of a hill as the wind certainly built overnight. Strangely for a hut filled with exhausted bikepackers there was no snoring! However I was awake for much of the night, at times feeling particularly ill – but that passed and I was somewhat ready for a civilised seven o’clock start. But not before taking a look at the intriguing sky as others left.

Katie excited by the prospect of the day ahead, or the sky, or something. Or maybe just agreeing to smile for the camera.

Up the first hill and away.

Well, it was the last hundred metres to climb of last night’s hill. Taking fifteen minutes, it got more exposed and it was a good struggle against the wind. Already I was tired of riding alone in the wind, so slowed a bit; shortly Eileen and then Guy (who’d had an early start way back down in Garston) caught up and down the Nevis Valley we went. Plenty of stream crossings ensued, a few snack breaks as we pedalled through the barren and windswept valley in flat light. Having overcome the climb from Garston, it’s certainly a much easier ride in this direction – or maybe I was particularly tired first thing on that day on the last GSB.
Even the little bit of climbing where the valley narrows wasn’t too bad. Perhaps I had finally started to find some legs by mid-morning, halfway through the route.

Spot the rider.

Dave caught up to us yet again in his surprisingly hardy and capable little Renault for updates and some photos.

Plenty of gates were opened and closed that day.
Photo: Dave King

Yet another stream crossing, and nearing the flats and the steep climb out – a chance to fill bottles.
Video: Dave King

Dave sprung from behind a lot of tussock to catch another stream crossing; most amusing, but I failed to quite snap a picture.
Video: Dave King

Heading towards the homestead and farm buildings, we paused out of the wind for a good food break before crossing the Nevis and taking on the six-hundred metre, steep and ninety minute climb.

Naturally, the sun came out to bake us as we left the Nevis below us.

Much more pleasant summit conditions this time around, one could actually stand up and it was worth lingering for photos and more chat with those loosely following around in vehicles.

Photo: Dave King

We quickly lost all the day’s elevation, and a fair chunk of the previous day’s too, on a fast and steep gravel descent towards Bannockburn.

Cromwell and Lake Dunstan in the distance.

Not shabby.

Definitely prefer riding down here, rather than slowly making my way up through a herd of large cattle.

At the junction, we were delighted to find Mark with a boot full of trail angel goodies. Down low, it had certainly warmed up and even after a big downhill we were quite partial to cold drinks and fresh Central Otago cherries.

Photo: Dave King

A mere twenty kilometres of gravel along Hawksburn Rd and we’d be in the shade of the river trail from Clyde to Alexandra. Properly hot by now, I probably could have done a better job of warning that this section is not to be taken lightly – having ridden it in similar conditions a few years earlier. There are some well steep sections to deal with, as the road eventually follows the power pylons. I was still feeling pretty good and pleased to be stretching my legs a bit. Any shade was welcome for a break, but there was little of that.

Down the Clutha to Alexandra, Crawford Hills behind.

Finally, the big plunge to Earnscleugh. Confusingly, Mark was there again in a different vehicle; as was Brian who’d left the ski hut a little before us. All pretty cooked in the thirty-plus degree heat and a day in the strong norwester, we really hadn’t ridden far – but it was a big day nonetheless. Guy, having started earlier and lower, called it a day while Eileen and I enjoyed shaded, cooler easy kilometres along the river trail to Alexandra. The next section of course both of us were unfamiliar with, and we were debating whether we should go over the Knobby Range that night.

Reports were the forty-odd kilometres would take us well over four hours (we happened across both Dave, and Geof – who living locally seems to randomly appear on my GSB rides, at the bridge into town for a bit of strategising). With reports of 100 km/h winds on the range and knowing the day, albeit shorter distance, we’d just had we opted for a huge delicious meal in an air-conditioned Nepali Indian restaurant, resupplying at the grocery store and the generous hospitality offered to riders by (rider) Joe and his wife, also Jo (not at all confusing) on our way out of town.

Big day, but again great riding, some challenges overcome, fascinating terrain, excellent riding company and plain bikepacking fun.

One of the good things about a bottleneck water crossing on such an event is that it facilitates a congregation of all the similarly-paced riders mid-ride. We saw riders in the convenience store, met Dave over breakfast at a cafe and then saw many more waiting for and on the nine o’clock boat across Wakatipu.

Time to share stories of the previous three days. Photo: Dave King

Not the boat to ferry across this time, but still worth a photo.

The newer boat is definitely faster, not even half an hour after scheduled departure we were leaving the shore for an hour of toil into the norwester. But with the views, excellent surface and the promise that we’d soon have the wind at our backs it was hardly toil. Plenty of time to chat, take pictures and see a pink blur flash past us.

Mountain and hill spotting as we trundled along.

We turned and followed the Von River flats up, pushed by the wind. No traffic out here and just lovely morning riding. An important snack break to complete at the foot of the climb, the rest of the boatload were soon past us. The only real climb of this section, it’s not too bad with wind assist – even if it wasn’t the gale force push I had up in a gathering storm on the penultimate day of my TA.

At the top of the climb we found most of the boatload congregated admiring the views and having an early lunch – rude not to join them. With some undulations we crossed the watershed and into Southland, now crossing the Oreti – which we’d spend the rest of the afternoon loosely following. Long gradual wind-assisted gravel downhills seemed to go and go, interrupted only by a quick look at a small pond.

I’ve still not ever had the time or energy to make the detour to Mavora Lakes when passing on an event. One day I’ll get there, for now – this will have to do.

The horror of the cycle trail into Mossburn in strong winds still fresh in my memory after five years (terrible slow surface, many flat right-angled corners turning across the prevailing wind), I was steeling myself for twenty kilometres of mental and physical exertion. That worked well, as it wasn’t nearly as bad as my memory would have had me believe – after storm damage it’s been resurfaced and the corners didn’t require as much slowing to negotiate. There were however far fewer trees bending in the wind than I (mis?)remembered and crossing the wind was still hard work – some small exposed bridges best negotiated on foot lest one gets blown to the edge and find nowhere to plant a foot, except the water below.

Definitely time for a big cafe stop when Eileen and I rolled into town. Many others soon joined us at a cafe that was generally very good, but with a strange aversion to serving hungry customers three-quarters of an hour before closing. I for one bought enough to feed me for many non-bikepacking days, but with seconds I figured I had enough to go and ride the Nevis the following day. There was still a tailwind to take advantage of all the way to the Lumsden turnoff. One just had to deal with an unfathomable cycle trail; really, powerpoles up the middle?! Rather put an end to easy side-by-side chatting for a while.

Go figure. I guess it’s better than being on an unshouldered road.

Near Lumsden we turned north, wondering how the now-crosswind would slow our progress. As the route to Garston slowly curved to the east, the wind wasn’t as bad as perhaps feared. Death by a thousand gates through a large farm section however… Four of us worked our way through the double sets of cattle stopped, self-closing and fastened gates at so many points we lost count early and just dealt with it. That and the powerpoles – a shining example of a cycle-unfriendly cycle trail; how that happens…

Discussion turned to how far we might make it that day. There were no services to stop for in Athol or Garston, so it was easy to keep going.

Suddenly Dave appeared for a photo and a chat, this would become less surprising over the next two days. Heading to Garston with Eileen and Dave (another one). Photo: Dave King

Yup, not much food to be had here. Just as well, we may have called it stumps for the night if there had have been.

By this time, twas already eight o’clock and yet another longest-distance-day-ever for Eileen – but there was still plenty of daylight left, and the old Garston Ski Hut had been in the back of our minds as a destination all day, it was now a mere ten kilometres away. Only thing was, it was over six hundred metres above us!

The approach to the start of the actual climb seemed the hardest – just a direct climb to the gate.

The climb averaged out at about nine percent and an hour and quarter of delight. Sure, constant pedalling and all – but the wind died down, it was warm and still and the light over the Mataura valley and the Eyre Mountains was sublime. On consecutive days, I was treated to an amazing evening and twilight ride. It certainly is great getting to see the whole day while riding, events like this making it far more likely that one will push on. We made the hut with plenty of twilight to spare to find quite a few GSBers already ensconced – some riders I’d not seen since the start days earlier, some from the boat in the morning (including Katie who, on that pink flash of a bike speeding past way back at the lake, arrived two hours before us – what, did we stop to eat too much? Not possible.) and Dave, naturally, going through his photos. As darkness descended a few more riders arrived until we’d pretty much filled both rooms of the hut. Another fantastic day.