A late start to the Great Southern Brevet does at least give plenty of time for breakfast at the Greedy Cow and catching up with bikepacking friends from far and wide, finally meeting previously-online friends for the first time and the chance to meet new people who soon become friends. Two years ago, there were only thirty-odd lining up at the Church of the Good Shepherd; this time, I expect due to the difficult in travelling overseas, there were near a hundred riders eager for the adventure ahead. What a privilege in these times, just to have such a large group start and simply shake hands and be with friends sans any distancing restrictions.

With six weeks off the bikepacking bike due to dislocating my shoulder before Christmas, I had simple goals for the 1100 km course. Most importantly, keep my shoulder where it should be; other aims were to see if there was any shoulder pain, take it easy and ride into a little bit of fitness, spend time riding with others, not do much night riding so as to see as much as possible, not exhaust myself before the big event of the summer, see how my lighter kit worked out and generally enjoy a week away riding in amazing part of the country. To try and trick myself into riding slower and shorter days punctuated with more stops, I’d switched to flat pedals and my street shoes – a set-up I typically only use for touring.

Heading down to the start.

Excited to get out there and see what Dave had in store for us. Photo: Dave King.

An hour milling around lots of chatty people pre-ride was excellent, but eventually we got to do what for we came for. Seen off by the cowbell toting locals down the street, I hung around until I was at the back of the field and tootled off up the hill out of town.

Bunched.

It was almost possible to lag behind, but we were soon on gravel then heading up a steep track. The desire to ride up it was still there, but not being attached to my pedals did force a dismount and push. This was working out ok.

Strewn.

That crested, the track improved to a gravel road and views across Lake Pukaki. Dropping down to the lakeside, it was forty kilometres of Alps2Ocean gravel and trail to Twizel; the wind must have been kind as even I managed that in less than two hours. Finding the problem of not having a proper shakedown ride, strangely my front brake began to increasingly rub. Arriving in town mid-afternoon for resupply I was feeling pretty ordinary. Only on leaving town and having many people fly past me, did I make the leap and realise just how much energy that little brake rub was sucking. That adjusted once off the road, everything was right with the world again and I had the semblance of a lease of life.

Which was just as well, as the next section was a good hike-a-bike up the overgrown Flanagan’s Pass. A couple of hours of mostly pushing through farmland then close tussock (at times over twenty percent), with some decent stream crossings, was not unpleasant in the late afternoon.

Somewhere, the remains of a trail under the grasses.

Back east and where we’d come from.

A brief pause at the saddle to layer up and admire the view, twas then onto a rollicking descent. So much fun!

Across the Lake Ohau headwaters

I caught up to Guy partway down and we continued around the lake to rejoin the A20 and familiar trails. With the sun starting to drop, thoughts turned to how far to go for the day. Eileen appeared from somewhere, having been well in front of me – but also having too much fun on the downhill and missing a turn. I’d not made any plans, Omarama seemed too far away for first day back on the bike. Quailburn, as Eileen had suggested, seemed a better idea at 150 km in. Guy and I made our way around the bottom of the lake, first sheltered in the scrub before joining the road and dealing with the wind off the lake. With the recent devastating fires, the campground Adele and I stayed at when we did the A2O a few years ago was closed and looking rather blackened.

Eventually we reached the lodge entrance and the time to turn from the wind for the long gradual climb into the gathering night. Chatting with a few others, it would be the last we’d see of them until back in Tekapo six nights later. Eileen rolled up and after we’d all rested and snacked a bit, the three of us started the climb. A nice steady three percent grade as twilight set in – about an hour it took.

We were all pretty spent and had a bit of a rest at the summit. Somehow I managed the last half hour without turning lights on, but it was quite dark by the time I was hunting out a bivy spot near the historic Quailburn woolshed. A great day back on the bike, save the brake rubbing wasting a bit of energy – but I sorted that and everything was excellent again. Now for the wind to die down while I slept in the lean-to of the woolshed.