Solo road tour
The plan for the week is to ride through the Rainbow Station via the St James cycle-track to Hanmer Springs (for a soak in the hot pools) then make it up from there. Luckily I'm not one of those that are put out when well laid plans turn to custard. Rain and swollen rivers puts paid to the Rainbow so it turns into a road trip with a little bit of rail thrown in.
Monday 23
The alarm goes at 0045 after two hour's sleep and it's straight onto the pre-packed bike and into the empty, wet streets of Lower Hutt. A northerly helps for a quick trip to the Bluebridge ferry terminal and a short wait before boarding for Picton.The Bluebridge service is always slightly rustic, which I kind of like, so I use their service as much as I can, unfortunately they have limited sailings so it normally doesn't suit. On board, some of the truckies (most of the passengers at this time of night) have lashed out the extra $40 for a cabin so there are only a scattering of people kipping out on the seats. A hot chocolate helps with settling down to join them and the additional couple of hours sleep are appreciated.
It's a calm crossing with the sky starting to lighten as the boat turns out of Tory Channel into Queen Charlotte Sound. The truckies turn up and tuck into brekky; checking cell phones and clutching coffees. At around 0610 the sky is light as I lead the trucks off the boat and head up the road towards Blenheim.
The planned route is up the Wairau Valley, a wide river valley running WSW from the East Coast into the middle of the South Island where you pass over a low saddle (730m or so) into the narrower Buller River valley which takes a more meandering course westward to the coast at Westport.
By Renwick (37km from Picton) it's a sunny morning and time to stop to pick up breakfast and something for lunch later on (no shops for another 90 odd km). Now for the long haul up the Wairau Valley into a strengthening head wind (the prevailing winds tend to be from the north and west so there's a good chance of a head wind for this stretch).
On Sunday Iona had been telling me about being bombed by magpies out riding in the Manawatu and I had noted it had never happened to me. Well, at least 6 of the buggers have from one to many goes as I pass through their territory this morning. None actually hit but there's a bit of a hiss or squawk as they buzz by very close.
Kowhai Point DoC camp site in the Upper Wairau is a chance for a bit of a lie down and rest. Tui chase each other through the blooming kowhai and it looks like not a bad wee spot to camp at a pinch. Then it's the only significant uphill stretch to Tophouse Saddle and a 5km cruise under now overcast skies and a few spots of rain into St Arnaud just after 1pm.
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| Tophouse Saddle; last sun of the day |
A long coffee at the store, then a visit to the DoC centre to check out pamphlets (they're charging 50c or more each; talk about under-funded), and eat lunch accompanied by sandflies.
The drizzle mooches about and refuses to go so eventually I harden up and set off figuring there's plenty of time to get to Murchison 60km away. The drizzle stops just down the road and stays away for the rest of the day.
The first 25km from St Arnaud has long straights and is virtually deserted. The valley then starts to narrow and the road starts to do a bit of up and down, but overall it's a net drop all the way to Murchison. However a long day, on top of little sleep, is catching up and the last 10km into Murchison is interminable.
On arrival the question is where to stay. Although at about 4:20 there's plenty of light, I don't fancy tenting on the side of the road somewhere. The brochures all advertised one place, which seemed a bit expensive, so when I see Riverview Holiday Park just before town, I figure the odds are good that it's cheaper and quiet. Sure enough it's tucked away from the main road between the cemetery and the river. The cabins looked pretty rough and the owner has a ZZ Top beard (only slightly off white). I fork out the sum of $15 for a cabin and first impressions are confirmed inside. Everything is rough but there are pillows in cases and a bottom sheet I can believe is clean. The place is ideal.
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| Tucked in between the cemetery and the river ... |
A trip to the Four Square for dinner before a shower. A local inhabitant with a well developed drinking habit takes me under his wing and recommends the disability shower which has just been fixed. I'll say: a deluge of hot water cascades from the nozzle and I'm soon clean, then warmed through and eventually bored. My patience runs out before the $2 coin does.
The Buller River flows quietly beside the camp which is full of young kayakers, the ones next to my cabin are playing drinking games, hopefully that won't go to late.
Cycling gear in front of the heater dries quickly but fills the hut with the smell of evaporated sweat; lovely. I'm not sure of the distance today but figure it's approaching 200km (it was 205 including getting to the ferry), further than I've done in a day before anyway and it's not surprising that by 8pm the battle against sleep is lost. I have a brilliant night's sleep on the floor rather than the sagging bunk.
Tuesday
Packed, breakfasted and off for Inangahua by 0730 under cloudy skies. It's warming up, after 50 odd km down the Upper Buller Gorge, so I stop outside the closed local shop and apply sun screen before turning south away from the Buller River and onto Highway 69 for Reefton. The wind seems to have swung to the south so those long straights through farmland are a bit of a drag. But Reefton and an early lunch in the shade roll around soon enough. I chat briefly with a Triumph rider who has also come up from Murchison. He mutters about the bucket of bolts but it's obviously his pride and joy. |
| Reefton Four Square; hot and sunny |
There's a low saddle to cross to get into the Grey catchment then the long run down Highway 7 towards Greymouth. Not a lot to report really; a farming valley with a railway line ...
The sun has disappeared again but I'm feeling hot enough to stop for a breather and drink at Ikamatua, about 112km from Murchison. It's a busy wee store and clearly a hub for the local community. It's early afternoon so time to start thinking about where to sleep to night, Jacksons on the Arthur's Pass road seems too far away given the way I'm feeling, but there's an outside chance if I take the sealed route (turn left at Stillwater) rather than one of the gravel back roads. The head wind rises further so the afternoon turns into a bit of a slog.
After 170km Moana, the settlement beside Lake Brunner, is a welcome sight. It has a petrol station/store and a few accommodation options. The proprietress sees me staring disconsolately at the pie warmer wishing they had something more palatable. She reads my mind and offers to make a roast beef and pickle sandwich; perfect. She informs me that the Jackson pub is no longer operating but that there is a camper van park just down the road. She is a mine of information and really helpful.
She just about sells me on staying at one of the nearby options but there's 2 hours of sunlight left so it would be a shame not to push on. Maybe next time - it looks like a great spot.
The wind steps it up another notch and although mostly side or head on there are a few long straights which whip by with a chasing wind. The last 5km are gently up hill into the wind and dimming light but at last the bridge over the Taramakau River comes into sight and Jackson's Retreat. I'm just about all in.
The owner up-sells me to a ready pitched tent under cover for $30. It's bigger than my tent, I don't have to pitch it, and there are stretchers with mattresses. I don't take any convincing. The tent is pitched in one bay of a four bay agricultural shed with brush wood divisions; a very nifty set up.
The retreat makes a virtue of it's green credentials. It's all pretty crisp and clean, there are laundry facilities ($6.90 - washed and dried) and great showers (no extra charge). There's also a few essential items on sale at the office. There is only one camper van in residence whose inhabitants I never see, so it is a very peaceful stay.
The distance for the day is 203km so another (for me) big day.
Wednesday
It's a rough night, with the constant roar of wind in the bush, the slap of canvas, and heavy rain. I decide not to worry about what it means for the ride in the morning on the grounds that if it is too bad I can always turn tail for Greymouth and fly or train out.The Taramakau Valley runs out of the Alps to the sea between Greymouth and Hokitika. The Arthur's Pass road travels up this valley before diving off (south) to head up the smaller Otira Valley to the Pass. The wind is strong down the valley so it's slow going. Looking up the Taramakau, the mountain tops are hidden in the mist with runs of snow appearing out of the murk. The spurs up the valley disappear into what looks suspiciously like rain.
A coal train labours up the valley and soon after a different empty one returns. The rain sets in lightly giving sufficient excuse to stop at the Otira Hotel (a notice says it is for sale; with or without the town as well). It's only 20km in but I have an idea what's coming so a cuppa tea is welcome and incidentally the latest (penultimate) America's Cup yacht race is on.
Shortly after, the train tracks head up valley for the tunnel and the road dives into the Otira Gorge. The climb is brutal; very steep in places with strong winds driving stinging rain down the gully. It takes a long time to get to the top including having to hold onto the barrier at times to avoid being buffeted into the traffic.
The rain continues solidly for the run down to Arthur's Pass. The Wobbly Kea is the first place that catches my eye and luckily it has a fire and hot soup on offer. I find that I am way colder than I had thought and it pretty much takes the rest of the day to recover. In retrospect I should have put another layer or two on but once on the move there were few stopping places and I knew Arthur's Pass was not far away.
A cyclist stops in, having come in from the opposite direction. He's having trouble with his crank and there aren't many options this side of Greymouth. I think he probably ended up catching the bus.
It's still raining outside and I re-evaluate ... it's about 82km to Springfield over Porters Pass with little in between, the weather looks set, it's a head wind and I already feel pretty knackered. And there is a train to Christchurch in a little over three hours. A quick phone call and I'm booked and paid for. Some texts ensure that Alistair has a spare bed in Christchurch.
Half the time is profitably spent in the rather good DoC centre browsing and chatting to the staff and the rest at the cafe for lunch with a brief pause to chase a couple of kea off the bike. At the station the coolish waiting room is full of a school trip; mayhem. The disability loo however is toasty warm so I take my time digging out my warmest gear.
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| Warming up in Arthurs Pass |
The train is coming up from the coast but the punters have to bus over the pass as no passengers are allowed in the tunnel. Some full buses turn up quickly followed by an empty train. I load the bike, find my seat and settle back as we leave about half an hour late.
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| After 8 km underground ... |
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| The TransAlpine cycle transporter |
The snowy peaks and scree dropping through beech forest is rapidly replaced by wide river flats and lower rounded hills. On the road the buses can be see shadowing the train as they return to Christchurch; seems a bit inefficient really.
Sitting back in the warm and listening to the commentary is pleasant. The glacially formed landscapes, braided rivers, the famous Cass Station, dramatic Waimakariri Gorge ... All under low cloud and rain. Suddenly after a series of tunnels and viaducts we are on the Canterbury flats passing through intensely green farms to Springfield.
Alistair's head appears above the crowds at Christchurch railway station shortly followed by his large swandri clad frame. It's great to see him and we head back to Margaret's for dinner and a catch up. Alistair's back is playing up so he sits at the table on a Swiss ball gently bobbing around. He has some fairly intensive physiotherapy underway including an intriguing procedure involving a plunger and baby oil ... sounds like the sort of thing certain people might pay a lot of money for.
With the yacking it's a late night but I've pretty much recovered from the morning's activities and only travelled 33km over the 920m (ish) pass.
Thursday
It's a bit of a slow start but a sturdy bowl of porridge and fruit is just the thing to go biking on. Alistair jumps on his bike to take me north along various back routes to avoid the main roads to the edge of town. We say good bye just before the motorway north.The day starts overcast but soon clears and what wind there is is mostly from behind. Layers come off and sunscreen goes on, yet the air is nice and cool. Perfect riding conditions. The one fly in the ointment is the rumble paint on the road edge (which runs a fair length of the ride to Blenheim). Designed to wake up wandering drivers, it is unrideable on a bike, and has the effect of forcing bikes either onto the rough road edge or into the traffic.
I've been dreading the ride and State Highway 1 is indeed busy with plenty of trucks. They pretty much give me a reasonable berth and I potter along for a late lunch from the Cheviot supermarket. Afterwards I'm refilling my water bottles at the tap outside and the manager points out that Cheviot is on a boil water notice; what sort of District Council have they got! It's against my inclinations but a bottle of water is a necessary purchase at the next petrol station.
Coming down off a rise I feel a whack on the back of the head as a magpie does a flyby. There's a few other sorties along the way but that is the only strike.
The ride has been pretty flat with a slow rise up to 75km, then a few blips, but after 142km there's a bit of climbing starting with the Hundalee Hills. They are not high, but it's a bit of a grunt late in the day. Finally the road rolls down to the coast at Oaro, there's a haze of sea spray in the air and the smell of the briny. In the shadow of the hills it is decidedly cool, so the sun light spilling down through the gullies is welcome. In the distance (20km) the Kaikoura Peninsular is a tantalising goal.
As the road hits the edge of the Kaikoura Flats it passes over the Kahutara River; it's high and dirty but the mountains behind are clear and white.
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| Kahutara River |
It's been a longish day covering 178km so I plumb for dinner at the local Thai restaurant rather than DIY. This turns out to be NZ Rural Thai - i.e. the authenticity of the dishes is dictated by the availability of ingredients. The noodles fill the gap nicely as does copious water and a beer.
The Albatross library has a small and esoteric collection of books in various languages (most punters seem to prefer their lap tops). For nostalgic reasons I select a version of "Do androids dream of electric sheep?" that turns out to be missing a few chapters.
That night there is a small miracle; in a room of 6 strange blokes there are no real snorers.
Friday
There are only a few people stirring at the Albatross as I quietly let myself out shortly after 8am. It's a clear and sunny morning, and it feels like a seaside alpine resort, with the snowy hills making their presence felt above the town. You can see why people might like to holiday and live here. Kaikoura itself seems to be in the middle of an evolution from the old town centre with a few empty shops, to newer shops, restaurants and accommodation along SH1 at the north end of town.There is a light northerly but not enough to be too much of a hassle. There air is still nice and cool but for a stretch of 4 or 5km is enlivened by the rancid sweat smell of seals.
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| Looking south to Kaikoura |
Traffic is constant but not too heavy in the morning and the sea haze is ever present. It's a pretty ride, but after a while becomes a little samey. The Clarence river heaves into site after about 40km. But I have a little more interest in reaching my self-promised stop at Kekerenga (The Store) for a late morning snack/lunch.
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| The Store |
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| The view (well, some of it) |
The wind has got up a bit so it has been slightly heavy going to get here but there's no hurry, which is lucky as service is sloooow. The food is good though and the setting is stunning; the deck is shaded by native trees and looks over a light green ocean breaking in a very civilised manner on the shingle beach next to an immaculate sward. Looking inland, snow capped mountains stand aloof, and along the coast lush green hills flank the shore.
It seems pretty clear I'll be making Blenheim tonight so I text (a different) Alistair to arrange a meeting time and place, this turns out to be the Cork and Keg in Renwick at 5pm; plenty of time I reckon.
Back on the road I note there are a few stoats as road-kill, I haven't noticed this elsewhere and wonder what is different here. However, of more immediate interest is the rising northerly and cloud setting in. This becomes more than just an inconvenience at 75km where two wind turbines spinning enthusiastically mark where the road turns inland and becomes hilly. The last 68km are hellish.
There are a few necessary breathers, at Ward and Lake Elterwater, and a restorative cuppa in the Seddon tearooms (you could see where the window was replaced after breaking in the earthquake - there are also numerous filled cracks in the road and around a few bridges in the area).
The hills aren't high but the climb into the Awatere Valley and then out via the Redwood Pass is slow and it is looking like I will be close to my rendezvous time. Once in the Wairau Valley it's nice to know it's flat but despite a relatively modest 143km for the day my head is pretty low when I haul into the pub car-park bang on 5pm.
Alistair has just completed week three of his new career in the wine industry and we head to the pub by the Renaissance Brewery to meet some of his colleagues (although I am hardly of a suitable standard of dress or olfactory wholesomeness for civilised company). His flat turns out to be the high class home of Linda, who is a power house of drive, building the property up from scratch and running what looks like a tidy pampering business from the address. It's a comfortable night undisturbed by the strong wind outside.
Saturday
Despite good initial intentions there is no biking today. We have a leisurely rise to a quiet morning and a stunning 180 degree view south over the Wairau valley. Rows of grape vines run away into the middle distance below the house and the sun casts a constantly changing pattern of relief on the far range. |
| View from "the flat" |
Linda gets in a quick round of weed spraying before breakfast while the wind is low. She's at something the whole time, and you can see why everything is well organised. A serendipitous duck egg appears from off the lawn, and later on a large batch of strawberry jam is on the stove. A chap arrives to do mowing and other jobs, the therapist comes in and Linda gets them all organised, all before 9. This is our signal to head out, after a shifty around the estate.
We visit a couple of indifferent markets and grab a coffee, before popping in to the i-site and Vino's, where we get an unhesitating recommendation for lunch; Rock Ferry; a good tip. Good food, very friendly service, and an extensive tasting of their wines from Marlborough and Central Otago.
Alistair kindly offers to drop me to Picton before picking Vicki up from the airport, it's a bit of a relief as I haven't been looking forward to the trip up the busy road into the wind. The ferry is delayed but a couple of hours at Le Cafe provides dinner and a Renaissance ale to the sound of the evening's band warming up (Anna Coddington?).
There's the usual long wait as they shunt wagons on and off then a calm sailing and that's it.
