Wet feet as soon as leaving the hut, we were soon pushing and lifting our bikes up a skinny track for a bit of early (well, eight o’clock – early for this trip) hike-a-bike. Andy and I were thoroughly schooled as Rachel went for the full bike carry across her shoulders. But the tussock and trail were not so bad to dissuade me from keeping my wheels on or close to the ground.

A clear start to the day, but it hadn’t been cold overnight.

Hut getting smaller; Rachel’s photo.

Bit of a switchback, waiting patiently for the sun to strike the corrugated iron of the hut. Alas, as slow as progress was hiking up the hill – it wasn’t slow enough.

After gaining two hundred metres in half an hour, the Cromwell Cardrona Pack Track became old 4WD track and surprisingly rideable.

Well, there was still the odd steep part. The ridge behind, part of the previous day’s route (left to right).

We started to get glimpses of snowy peaks in the distance.

Almost two hours and five kilometres, in it was decision time. Do we continue on the direct pack track to Deep Creek on a barely-there trail (bound to be overgrown with tussocks and spaniards) or do the other two sides of a triangle north-east and then south on 4WD track? After much deliberation, we gave the pack track a go. That barely lasted a hundred metres, the going was far too slow and tough. We bailed and headed off on the double track.

This did mean an extra couple of hundred metres of climbing, but it was far more rideable than the pack track!

Andy in his element setting up for more videoing. Nevis Valley way off south.

Mt Aspiring making an appearance.

The climbing pretty much done now, we had quite a descent to look forward to. About 1400 metres, wahoo!

But first, someone insisted (ahem, me) that we should walk up to the highest point of our trip – Mt Dottrel – as, when would we be back?

A steady climb to the flat top, the first real bit of downhill we’d done that day behind.

I think it was worth it. Cromwell down below with Lake Dunstan and the Cairnmuir Mountains behind. Old Man Range on far right, we’d go over that low point between the two later in the day

Back at the bikes, there was nothing for it but the long, surprisingly smooth considering, downhill interspersed with many stops as new angles on the view opened up to stop us in our tracks.

Mt Dottrel at rear.

The southern end of the Dunstan Range – must get up there.

A rut! Quite a surprise. Rachel’s photo.

Lifting our bikes over a locked gate, I was beginning to feel that we weren’t on the farm that we had permission to be on. But what would it matter up here?! We’d eventually get to where we were supposed to be. But with such a warm still day up here – really, not a breath of wind, uncanny – the leaseholders were up maintaining one of their huts. What are the chances?! Apologising profusely for inadvertently trespassing, they were very gracious and up for a bit of a yarn. The beers before noon probably helped us in this situation.

Even this newspaper clipping was dragged out – not the last time we were told that day of Rambo’s demise. After what I saw over a month prior, he had it coming.

With helpful directions of how to get where we were supposed to be (there was still quite a bit of the wrong farm to get through), we farewelled the farmers and headed off – straight up a pinch climb, only just managing to ride all of that.

There was much enjoyment to be had on the Pisas picking out places the three of us had ridden together recently. Here the Chain Hills, Dunstan Saddle, the Lauder Conservation Area were visible in front of the St Bathans Range. Still more places to return to or explore for the first time.

Into the farm we were supposed to be on, finally!

Occasionally spaniard plants aren’t making me yelp in sudden pain, the spikes seen indicate why they often do.

Twas a fun and fast descent.

Rachel’s photo.

Up the Kawarau Gorge; soon, I’m told, there will be a cycle trail down there to connect to Queenstown. That’ll be cycle trail all the way from Middlemarch! Will just remain to connect it to Dunedin.

Getting lower. Over to Bannockburn, the start of the Nevis Road, the Old Man and the afternoon’s route over Hawksburn Rd.

Picking out the sheep tracks that I “ran” up and down on last year’s Mt Difficulty trail half-marathon. What was I thinking?

Down in the valley floor, it was heating up. So we went to the pub.

You wouldn’t pick it, but this photo is for the slight view of the Pisa Range and where we were just an hour or so before. Quite satisfying sitting eating looking at that, exclaiming “we were up there”! It was fantastic after all.

Eating, the real reason we go bikepacking. Also notable for Andy’s remarkably clean shirt (Clean Shirt!), bought just for being vaguely presentable in Queenstown. Rachel’s photo.

Having spied family friends drive past us on our brief road section, I insisted we go and visit in Bannockburn. Partly because I’d not caught up in years, partly because it was midway through a northwesterly-fanned scorching afternoon. I think we all enjoyed the visit, fresh summer fruit, and respite from the sun.

Lagging as we again headed out of town, I was taking it easy. It was a blessing when the hot tailwind turned to a cooler headwind, funnily enough. Just twenty kilometres and five hundred metres of climbing before we returned to our start point, I finally seemed to get stronger. Maybe it was just because Hawksburn Rd had always been a bit of a challenge, but after the time over Percy Saddle and then on the Pisas, this was just a small bump in the topography. The elevation graph certainly shows it like that! It must be said that the surface up to and on the pylon road is much improved – far more rideable than I remember.

Hawksburn Farm in the sun, Old Man Range behind.

Some of the last climbing for the trip, relatively easy going.

Undulating across the saddle, there’s the end of the Dunstan Range again. One day…

Finally, one last, steep downhill back to Mark’s place.

With that, our week-long tour was over. Still can’t believe the weather, never had to put my rain coat on once! In fact, in eleven days bikepacking together on long-planned trips – I wore my raincoat only to drop off the Lauders when it suddenly got cold for a long descent. Considering the terrain we’ve been in, that’s something. And that’s just a bonus on top of the enjoyment these trips exploring lower South Island hills with Andy and Rachel brings – another cracker.

One more plug for a far better summary of what the trip was actually like: Andy’s video.

Again, we escaped the conveniences of a town and were on the bikes by the crack of mid-morning (as Andy eloquently put it); there hadn’t been that much weather to miss really. But the overnight recharge in Queenstown, along with all the food, was most welcome.

Ok, one food picture. Not my usual breakfast while bikepacking, or any time at all. Delicious.

Easy trails around the lake got us through and out of the resort with plenty of room to chat amongst the morning dogwalkers, joggers and cyclists.

Certainly was worth waiting for skies like this.

Down beside the Kawarau before switching to up the Shotover at the confluence, it was all familiar going – albeit in reverse to event routes that have previously taken me through here.

Over the old Shotover bridge, past a head on the river flats, and looking up to Coronet Peak.

A steep climb soon greeted us on the alternative route to Arrowtown – apparently the main trail back down the Kawarau was closed at some point, I didn’t miss the lumpy bit through the deer farm. So backroads it was, some of the signage was easily missed it seemed as we ended making our own route towards the Millbrook resort. Whoever shoehorned a visit to the resort up a nasty climb obviously hated cyclists. Riding through the golf course and interspersed luxury houses was a little odd, and we’d even showered and done some laundry the previous evening.

An early lunch in the sun opposite the famed Arrowtown bakery done, as well as stocking up for second-lunch, we were finally ready to get into the day proper. Riding up Tobins Track was nowhere as steep as I remembered from having far too much fun in the opposite direction, there was shade to start but that soon disappeared. Things flatten out, comparatively, between the end of the track and reaching the Crown Range Road (the most direct road between Queenstown and Wanaka).

Back towards Queenstown with a little more elevation.

Joining the busy road, the surface was smooth and the climbing quite alright – around ten percent. A warm still afternoon, past the farmland we gratefully stopped at the small streams cascading to and under the road to rehydrate.

I spied a turnout and wanted a better view, letting the others get ahead. Down to Gibbston.

Strangely empty road, apart from the two bikes that I now had to chase down.

Finding a lot of energy from somewhere (blood and energy levels back to normal, whatever that is, by now), I eventually managed to catch Rachel and was surprised as I was catching Andy to hear even more exuberant greeting from a passing car than the other toots we’d had. Eventually I realised it was Olly, who I rode/pushed/carried much of TTW with, hanging out a window. Excellent to catch up at the road summit before he continued to Coronet for some mountain-biking. Onto 4WD track, we pushed up and around the corner for second-lunch out of earshot of the traffic noise.

Pushing up 4WD tracks through large tussocks and spaniards is becoming a habit, especially with Andy and Rachel as companions – fine by me as it promises big views, new places and long downhills. Past the switchbacks there was even some riding to be had as the climb slackened.

Rachel’s photo.

Ditching the bikes briefly, an unencumbered walk on the last little bit to Rock Peak was welcome – as was the three-sixty degree panorama.

Mt Cardrona, not much of a ski field at this time.

Spaniards smell remarkably like pine cleaner. Who knew? Well, we did as Andy had been telling of it on the previous trip. Rachel’s photo.

Things kicked again, but more rideable than I thought.

Towards Quartz Knoll, the highest point of the day, as we approached Mt Allen.

Somewhere over there, hidden, is the hut we were looking for.

The push up to Quartz Knoll, looking back to Mt Allen. Nevis Valley, from the first day of the trip, way off in the background.

Standing on Quartz Knoll looking southwest-ish to Rock Peak (left, midground). The Airways installation to help passenger jets land at Queenstown visible.

East to the southern part of the Pisa Range, it would keep until the following day.

Time for the Type I fun to start – fast, rocky, open descents.

More climbing, of course, on typical ridge riding.

Plenty more ridge to go before dropping to Tuohys Gully. The roads to and of Snow Farm and the Southern Hemisphere Proving Grounds (testing of pre-production cars in winter) visible on right.

There’s a hut down there! Not ours though, although that track at the back is also for the following day’s climb.

More enjoyable downhill to the gully, four hours it took us to get our bikes the sixteen kilometres from the road summit – but there was a big lunch in there, as well as three diversions on foot to various high points.

Aha, there’s our hut! One last fun descent and even a stream crossing.

Thankfully no crazy talk of pushing onto the next hut (many hours away), six o’clock seemed a reasonable time to knock-off for the day and soak in the last of the sun as it deserted the valley.

Adorable wee hut, and we had it all to ourselves.

An even more leisurely day was in store for us as we decamped from beside South Mavora Lake after another good sleep. Only fifty-odd kilometres of easy gravel road riding and five hours in which to do it before the TSS Earnslaw arrived to ferry us across Wakatipu to Queenstown – where we’d probably call it a day in anticipation of the incoming bad weather.

Back out to Mt Nicholas Road, we were soon in the station of the same name. It is one long farm, thirty or so kilometres the gravel just kept going through it. First, gently climbing for most of an hour to the watershed and the provincial border.

A little bit of valley to go.

The slightest of northerlies, and Andy kindly again did any work there was into the wind if Rachel and I tired of the slowing breeze in our faces.

Easy morning riding, fun times.

Rachel’s photo.

Into the Von River catchment and back in Otago, the minor lumps beckoned us to the high point of the day before the long descent to Lake Wakatipu.

Nice to have the time to finally stop and nosey around this old cottage. In remarkably good repair, it looks as though it’s used for occasional dinner functions. Probably in pre-pandemic tourist times.

The roll down the valley continued easily and we were soon out of Mt Nicholas Station. The next section around the lake to Walter Peak Station and the wharf is far easier in this direction – those little bits of gradient far less noticeable when you start a hundred metres above the lake.

Walter Peak towards the right of that ridge.

We arrived lakeside with plenty of time to poke around a bit, which makes a nice change to riding off straight after disembarking.

We managed to get a late morning tea here while the smells of openly slow-cooked barbecued meat wafted through the restaurant. Pity we’d not booked lunch and a later sailing!

A short walk to check out the Beach Point campsite (it’s really nice and far enough away from the main complex) was perhaps a little late in starting, there was a bit of a jog back to meet the Earnslaw as it steamed in.

Always an enjoyable passage, I seem to only do it on excellent bikepacking trips. After wandering around the floating history and checking out the engine room, watching the stokers shovel coal, it was time for a sit down. I was more than surprised to recognise a face down the length of the cabin. One of my fellow supervisors from the Melters at NZ Steel thirteen years ago, surely not?! Sure enough, a brief catch-up on where life had taken us both since making molten iron ensued before docking at Queenstown.

The day clouding over further we found some simple accommodation and did our bit to help the struggling eating establishments of the resort town. I’ll not turn this into a food blog with some of the many photos we collected of the various amazing meals we had. True to form, we also visited every outdoor and bike shop we could find as we wandered around in the drizzle. The heavy rain forecast was a bit of a damp squib, but a nice afternoon off around town meant that we’d get to stay in a good hut in the hills the following night.

Having never been to Mavora Lakes, despite riding past the turnoff a couple of times on events, I was keen to finally visit and camp there – it apparently being a beautiful spot. It seemed worth having a couple of easy days to do so, which meant we’d probably be able to wait out some forecast bad weather in Queenstown the following night. With a big cooked breakfast under our belts, booking the boat across Wakatipu, a cafe stop and visits to bike and food shops – we eventually left town mid-morning.

There looked a good gravel backroad option that would show us some more of rural Southland than the highway would – an easy decision to make, even if it was a bit further to ride it wouldn’t matter today. A surprisingly steep, albeit short, climb to soon start sweltering in the sun and discover we were chasing a grader down the road. Oh no, fresh soft gravel! Thankfully the operator had the blade a bit low for much of the road, so there was a strip with no gravel on it down the middle of the lane.

Mt Titiroa had constantly been around for a couple of days, and still was keeping an eye on us. Top of the steepest climb on this detour.

Spying the offending grader off in the distance at the bottom of a long, straight descent we were relieved to catch and pass it – the driver kindly stopping and waiting us to get by. Our eighty minutes of rural views with mountains off in all directions continued on a warm, still morning – far better than being on the highway.

The going was easy.

Inquisitive audience during a snack break.

Spotting possible shelter to bivy in is a regular aside of bikepacking; I’d give this shed a miss I think.

Doing the right thing and phoning for permission to cut straight across a farm to Mavora Lakes Rd backfired in that permission was denied – quite possibly could have snuck through, but we’ll never know. Having my phone on and surprisingly good coverage did at least give me the news that my new mountain bike frame had finally been delivered. Except there was no sign of it where it was supposed to be. I lagged again trying to sort it out, thankfully it was found at the wrong address and all sorted before we disappeared up backroads.

Half an hour on the highway and we turned north towards the lakes, the slightest southerly at our backs as the road very modestly climbed. Lunch in the shade of a row of pines, chatting to a Te Araroa through-hiker as she walked-jogged another interminable road section – I don’t think I could do that TA, so many road sections on foot.

Southland scenes.

Easy climbing, bit more traffic than I expected – but not too dusty.

Finally I get more than fifty metres down the road to Mavora Lakes, this being about a hundred metres.

A nice tunnel of beech forest shaded us all the way to the first campsite we found. We promptly stopped and pitched tents, dipped in the lake and generally lazed around appreciating a half-day on the bike.

Pretty rare that my tent is up so early on a hot afternoon that it’s worth opening up both sides for any breeze.

Early evening, we rolled along the road to North Mavora Lake for a look-see. Out of the trees, the breeze was up and most helpful.

End of the road, although 4WD tracks promise a bit more bike exploration if we should return.

Back to camp into the wind was a fairer indication of just how strong it was. Thankfully our campsite was well sheltered. The sun sunk towards the ridge of the mountains directly opposite our shore, where we were sitting cooking dinner. Scorching, it was rather odd having to get up from our stoves and dinner to stand in the lake to cool off some. Eventually the sun disappeared and the evening quickly cooled to a most pleasant temperature.

Another lakeside, another fire.

To bed eventually after a bit of night-sky gazing. A shorter day on the bikes, thrilled to have finally got to Mavora – on a stunning day in good company no less.