After easily the best sleep I had all race in the brilliant little Felt Hut, it wasn’t a particularly early start. I started the rest of the push to Bullock Bow Saddle (650 m over 4 km) as day broke. I found Andy packing up his tent back where the hut track joined the race route and enjoyed a brief catch-up.
Easy surface to start.
Ben McLeod Range grabbing my attention for one last time; the last descent of the previous night clearly visible, Fern Hut is down in that patch of forest.
Getting steeper; with fresh legs I’d have enjoyed trying to ride this sort of thing.
But not a chance of trying at that moment.
Halfway up, spot the rider/pusher.
A bit short of two hours of pushing, a pause to snack and take in the views of the Two Thumb Range opening up.
The descent started with big, chunky, sharp rocks across scree slopes. Mostly rideable, it was only a little hair-raising at times. Past a couple of tarns, it mellowed somewhat in both surface and gradient. Down at Bush Stream, we rejoined the Te Araroa trail and the trail quickly degenerated into more tedious unrideable tussock bashing. Still, the barren stoney ranges around were enough to distract one.
Royal Hut, three hours into the morning, was a natural spot to stop for a bit and check out the little building that quite a few riders stayed in over consecutive nights. Just as I was leaving for the long hike-a-bike to Stag Saddle (highest point on the route) Olly arrived, Andy, Matt and Pete weren’t far behind.
This was about as much of a track as there was for the early part, constantly crossing the stream did keep feet cool and gave ample opportunity for soaking clothes as the day heated.
Most of the time, the next pole could be seen – but many times it was just guessing the best way through the tussock.
Needless to say, there was a lot of carrying (actually it was mostly carrying for hours) and I was still pleased with how having transferred weight to my backpack was working for me.
The creek valley narrowed, and got rockier; we kept close to the stream through the guts of it.
Sometimes there was a bit of scrambling to be done, always fun with a bike.
Sometimes (regularly) I had a rest – especially when the surface started looking like this.
Times like this it was a toss up between the big tussocks and not being able to see the uneven surface below (by now, both lower legs and ankles were very tight and sore – manageable but noticeable) or big rocks that moved more than one would expect.
About halfway up, looking back at progress and definitely not looking at the gradient pitching up ahead.
Climbing a bit more steeply, I could finally see Matt, Andy and Olly picking their paths up.
Wasn’t all toil on another gorgeous and still day in the mountains. Again, I could have been at my desk…
It flattened out a little before the final push to the saddle. The best path to take became even less obvious. Fascinatingly, the flora changed again.
Almost there, the last little bit of foliage.
Not far now!
Made it! Lake Tekapo beyond.
Again, I’m not able to convey just what that was like – certainly tough, but achievable and satisfying to get up and see some wonderful sights on a glorious day. Five kilometres, six hundred metre elevation gain – four hours, that probably goes a long way to convey the slowness of it; I’m just glad it was another exceptionally pleasant day of weather. As the others were so close, I waited around to congratulate them and have a little company briefly (looking back, this was the day I spent the most time alone – but these guys were always pretty close, so it didn’t feel like it) – and rest.
Matt.
Andy.
Olly.
I don’t remember doing this at all, but there it is – my little bike in front of the Southern Alps.
The race route now took us away from the poled Te Araroa trail, and had us on a sketchy scramble as we sidled through a lot of large, chunky and sharp rocks beneath Beuzenberg Peak to pick up a trail down the ridge. When we could finally ride, it was fantastic – big views and great, rocky riding down and down.
Hard not to enjoy this.
Alas, it was not to last. In the only routing that I find inexplicable, instead of following the main trail down to, I assume, the gravel road that would later take us to Tekapo we dropped left off the ridge onto the hiking trail to Camp Stream Hut. Very quickly, the downhill through yet more increasingly large tussock became unrideable. After the climb up to Stag Saddle, not to mention Bullock Bow, it was a cruel twist. Oh, you want to ride downhill? Sorry.
Never mind, instead of hating life (and Brian!) it was far more beneficial to take a little mind reset and put myself back into hike-a-bike mode and accept it all as part of the challenge. Just another bit of this mad week to get done…
Camp Stream Hut, after which we dropped to the eponymous flowing water and bashed through the stream, walls of matagouri and more tussock.
Again, the cooling stream was a boon on a warm afternoon. Joining Coal River, we were not to stay valley bound for long. Suddenly this:
One of the steeper pieces of trail (as opposed to no trail), it seemed to have a tenuous grasp on the terrain – there wasn’t a lot of room between a person hauling a bike and peril.
Not quite nightmare material, it still looks plenty steep without being able to see the trail
That done, the trail finally started trending down – but it wasn’t particularly fast as it snaked around.
Eventually there was the much awaited proper-downhill to the gravel Lilybank Rd for a quick and easy fifteen kilometres into town. Only quarter to seven in the evening, I could quickly have some dinner and resupply for the next section. Alas, it had been another tiring, slow five kilometres per hour kind of day – the draw of the first shower in six days, washing clothes, having a wee bit more down time and the chance to chat to friends and family were too much. I got a room and set about cleaning me, my bike and my clothes; all the while preparing for the final five hundred kilometres of this adventure – knowing/hoping that the most challenging parts had been disposed of.
Was worth the wait, didn’t last long.
