A surprisingly good sleep later (maybe there was some value in dragging my tent around) and I was ready to set off and see how far I might get that overcast day. Things were nowhere near as grim as the previous evening. A little downstream of our campsite, we very briefly went over some of last year’s route on the Melina Ridge track’s exit to the highway and where we camped on the other side of the river.

Following the Lindis down for a bit.

Wasn’t hard to spot our climb to the top of Little Breast Hill, some nine hundred metres above us.

The valley narrowed and we had a cool little section through a wee gorge. We had to cross the river a number of times. The first looked simple enough, but in a sign of tiredness and a heavy bike I somehow promptly fell in the river halfway across. Pity Andy was watching. Although it was only half-seven, it was warm enough that the only real issue with this was that I had somewhat soggy potato chups for the rest of day – ick. I walked a few more crossings than I ordinarily would after that.

Through the gorge, contemplating that track and its gradient. Andy’s pic.

As we left the valley bottom, we took a chance to fill water bottles at the last creek marked on the map – it would be a long time until we found water again. Trying to eat as much as I could stomach, I steeled myself for the climb ahead – informed it only really looked steep for the middle third. As that approached, having already been walking since the turn upwards, the desire and energy was gone. After some deliberation, I was so close to turning and dropping down through the station (we were now on private land – thanks station owners for access, and Andy for organising, to make this route possible, although I might not have said so at the time!) and heading for my car.

While I was paused contemplating bailing on Andy and the route, we heard the faint sounds of approaching engines. Two ATVs came down the hill towards us, the occupants returning from a few days camping and hunting at the back of the station. They were pleasantly chatty (I was not, but Andy’s the guy who works in communications – so I left it to the professional) and as they departed, they left me with the encouragement to get up to the private hut a couple of hundred metres climb on for a cuppa. That seemed reasonable enough.

The gradient kicked a bit, but it wasn’t as nasty as Dromedary Hill and the surface was far better for pushing. The hut gained, I was feeling ok enough to push on.

Lush spot for a hut! Very tidy it was too.

All the cloud wasn’t great for the views, but there was still plenty to be staggered by – and the temperature topped out at warm, not hot.

May have even managed to get on the bike for that zig. Andy’s pic.

The trail turned off just below the summit, but damned if I wasn’t going to walk up another twenty metres to get to the top after having spent two and a half hours climbing the rest of the hill. I’m surprised to find now that the climb averaged over fifteen percent, about the same as Dromedary – somehow it was easier, perhaps due to the better surface, lower temperature, lack of really steep bits… Pleasingly, there were no two-step, bike push-ups needed.

A twenty minute break at the top was worth it for the rest and complete panorama – more fun picking out various ranges and other features.

North up the Timaru River valley.

West showing a fair bit of lumpy ridge riding to join the Te Araroa trail as it heads to Breast Hill.

More pushing beyond the locked deer gate – thankfully I’d picked up the key afternoon before.

Despite being on the ridge, the hills didn’t seem to be getting any less.

Shortly before the climb up to Breast Hill summit; thankfully we turned south onto the Grandview Ridge track. Hawea and the edge of its lake on right; over to Wanaka, its lake and surrounding mountains.

It turned out to be thirty-five kilometres of far more pushing and climbing than one would imagine considering we had a thousand metres to drop down to be close to the Lindis again! Still, we had plenty of daylight and food – even managed to find some water when we stopped for lunch and more rest. The fun of piecing together the views and features continued; we certainly had plenty of time to soak it in.

Looking from the north along the top end of the Grandview Ridge track – we were heading that way.

Lake Hawea a much darker blue than I’m used to seeing.

Oh, there’s the track from Hawea up to Grandview Mountain; which curiously is lower than the part of the ridge track done. Memories of more pushing helping some train for a long ago Godzone.

Back along the ridge and Lake Hawea. Making some progress now, still very undulating – to put it mildly.

East over tomorrow’s terrain, and the Chain Hills, Dunstan Pass, beginnings of Dunstan Range, St Bathans Range and right at the back – Mt Ida, which I can see from just outside my house where I sit typing away here. Fascinating.

Getting used to the gradients and feeling reasonable – not brimming with energy, but much better than previous night – we then saw Bluenose. From a distance it looked brutal. But gradients are weird, often it’s not as bad as it seems from afar. This was.

Trying to get some speed up to hit that zag to the left. Andy’s pic.

I got to the first corner and then was pushing – suddenly as steep as last night.

Then the surface deteriorated to the toughest all trip. Oh.

Probably a more accurate depiction of the twenty-plus percent. Andy’s pic.

Mercifully, it was only a short section (twenty minutes, give or take some rests) and completely doable. I’d like to say it was all downhill from there, but it certainly wasn’t! But only (!) twelve more kilometres until the last downhill to the flatlands. As we descended the rocky track turned to long grass, just for a change.

Up the Clutha to Wanaka.

Down the Clutha to Lake Dunstan; Dunstan foothills on left, Pisa foothills on right.

Over to more of the Pisas, this time next week…

Nearing seven o’clock we were off the hills. What a route! Hard, but manageable work. While the views were lessened, I was glad it wasn’t overly sunny and hot. We set off east on backroads for a relatively flat twenty kilometres for Cluden Creek and a small stash of food I’d dropped off the previous day. Water was scarce across here, except at the farmhouse we stopped at – we found most of the water going onto the garden and lawn! We gratefully filled bottles from the sprinklers. Dinner done, we were very pleased with over three thousand metres of climbing (much of it pushing, if we’re frank) over sixty-five kilometres in the hills; especially backing up after the evening before. Strangely it started to drizzle just as I got in my tent – maybe it really was worth lugging all that way. Phew, I’m getting tired just thinking about that day.

Addendum: Andy’s video of the whole trip. Some reminds me of all the tough pushing, and other bits of the views and fun riding.