Predictably, the first night in six where I paid to lay my head somewhere – I had the worst sleep of the lot. Between the heat inside and chatter outside, it was not restful. Woken for the final time at two-thirty, trying to get back to sleep for an hour wasn’t wasted when at least one good idea presented itself. Eventually I accepted sleep was not returning, so I got up and groggily got organised – locking myself out of my room in the process. Thankfully there was a phone at reception and a helpful night staff member on the other end of the line.

Into the crisp, clear night just after four I was happy enough to ride the flat Alps2Ocean section. Thoroughly enjoying it and the grand view of the stars, I turned my light off for a while; but not wanting to end up in the canal alongside, that didn’t last long. The day dawned as I joined the short stretch of trail beside Lake Pukaki for the second time in four weeks. That was short-lived as the course headed south on the Pukaki River road; the twenty kilometres of river rocks wasn’t as bad as I expected. I did have the sun rising to distract me.

Not a lot in the Pukaki River.

A reminder…

Benmore Range.

A more distant perspective of the Ben Ohau Range than the first day of the GSB.

It was worth turning and looking behind every so often.

Turning south, the final stretch of riverbed-like road felt the worst by far –
was probably all in my head as it seemed as though it should be a short, easy section.

The next section to Otematata through Black Forest Station was familiar from GSB19. Knowing a long climb through a dry, rocky section was approaching I was pleased I’d left early and the day still had some coolness to it. The five hundred metre climb now looks small on the elevation profile, but that’s more an indication of the afternoon and evening. It only got steep at the end, and there was a nice stream to soak my shirt in partway up.

Lake Benmore appeared, as the Hawkduns loomed ominously in the background.

A good, fun and fast descent on the pylon access road dropped me at the lake edge – but I certainly hadn’t forgotten the lumpy little bit to get to the dam. Reaching the highway at half-twelve I was pleased to see a small coffee cart right on the intersection – that meant I didn’t need the small detour into town. I was happy to rest in the shade with cold drinks, tea and a large lunch – while happily chatting to avid dotwatchers, before half an hour had gone, the day had got very hot and I made my escape.

Through the, what can only be described as, barren Otematata Station it was almost two hours to get up the 550 m climb on farm tracks – sometimes just on farm, no track. Well into the thirties, I managed not to cook myself (finally I’ve worked out how not to do that, it only took four years of intermittent dehydration and heat stroke during events) – another thing that went very right for me during Tour Te Waipounamu.

Down to Otematata; back when my parents had a holiday home here I could never conceived I’d be doing something like this – riding my bike used to be a lot easier! But significantly less rewarding.

We didn’t stay high for long, soon dropping most of the recent altitude gains into the valley on the left. Hawkduns still looming large behind.

At least the sudden loss of all that height brought us back to a river, the Otematata – more rehydration and shirt soaking for the next little section upstream.

A short section alongside and through Chimney Creek – late afternoon now, I had a big rest at the final crossing before starting on the climb proper onto the Hawkduns. Olly caught up to me just as I was setting off – he’d put well over two hours into me that day and was certainly getting stronger as I started to feel the lack of sleep the previous night.

Chimney Creek and the just-discernible start of the climb

This time, the start of the climb was the steepest – near twenty percent in the late-afternoon heat was brutal. I was pleased to have company, as well as the occasional rest. Almost four hours of pushing to reach the summit on chunky track – I struggled to ride almost any of it. Olly thought we could reach the Oturehua pub by closing (it was Saturday after all) and I was happy to go along with this as it was my original goal for the day. Possibly I should have stopped at Wire Yards hut, as I was already sixteen hours into a very hot and climby day; also, I knew just how wicked the descent would be in fading light on a loaded, rigid bike (it was very fun on a big day trip six years before). I completely missed even seeing the turn-off to the hut, but I wasn’t really looking for it – the pub sounded good.

Lovely still evening for views – south-east there was the Ida Range, and even the start of the Kakanuis to spot.

Back north across the Hawkdun tops to the Benmore Range and well in the distance the Southern Alps were clearly visible.
Cracking evening.

Walking Spur was as rugged as I remembered, but with a day twice as long as the previous visit (not to mention the preceding week) the exhilaration was more of the trying stay upright variety rather than gleeful riding.

Ample distraction from all the rocks!

I was lagging further behind Olly now, finally reaching the summit just as the last of the light faded.

That left the most rugged of the rideable descents on the course to hit in the dark. It certainly kept me awake as my brakes squealed all the way down. That five kilometres was hair-raising to say the least. About halfway down, ping! Hit something too hard and there goes a spoke. Still, the rest of the wheel survived the remainder of the rock and water bar barrage – so that bode well for the remaining three hundred kilometres of the course.

Olly was waiting at the end of the track with the disappointing, but not unsurprising (it was ten o’clock and Oturehua after all), news that the pub kitchen had closed. Needing food for tomorrow, this presented a bit of a quandary – as the store wasn’t due to open until ten on a Sunday. Tired from my biggest and hottest day on the race – eighteen and a half hours – I didn’t see the point in going into the village. Finding water and somewhere to bivy got my vote. The Mt Ida Water Race obliged with the first, and a stand of big old pines half a kilometre down the road the second. Waking the wood pigeons, whomp whomp of their wings distinctive, and some briefly-raucous magpies while we made camp, it took a little while for me to calm and fall asleep after an exhausting day – easily the most climbing in a day I’d done all week. With thoughts of possible wheel repair, I drifted to sleep.