Rocks in our heads – water in our shoes

We knew that the last section from Kurow to Queenstown was going to be tough. However, there was a dramatic physical effort that separated the real deal from the virtual (studying elevation and surface type profiles on phone apps from the comfort of your favourite chair at home).

Our first reality check was on the ride from Kurow to Danseys Pass hotel. It had rained quite heavily overnight and after about 3km of following the bike trail it disappeared into a swollen river. There was an alternative to fording the river, so we wimped out and retraced our tyre tracks back to the main road.

Howard was feeling confident as we hit the start of Danseys Pass and was sure he would get over the pass without changing his battery. From experience, I knew that battery life is seriously impacted by colder temperatures and it was cold. We made a little side bet. Howard powered off in a shower of gravel with his objective firmly set on the top of the Pass. My objective was to just keep the wheels turning on my slow but trusty c-bike. About 10km and a muesli bar later, I caught up with ‘Louis Hamilton’ Howard who admitted that he had run out of battery.

With the confidence that a fresh battery affords he powered off again but had to shelter in the tussock, on the summit, to keep hypothermia at bay while I sweated my way up to that 910m elevation. Extra layers were rapidly donned as I hit the southerly.

The descent was challenging with steep drop-offs, a badly rutted road and bed rock not to mention the low temperatures. But the key feature of downhills is that they never last long and the pub appeared out of the settling frost like an oasis in the desert. Howard popped into organise the room and when he attempted to exit he could not find the door. Some amused patrons suggested that he had rocks in his head.

After sampling the Local cafe at Naseby we connected with the Otago Rail Trail through to Omakau for what was a reasonably leisurely but long ride. The next morning we continued on the trail through to Alexandra where we entertained local shoppers as we unpacked our bags and attempted to jam two days food supplies into them. That extra weight probably saved our lives as we hit the Dunstan trail at the same time that a gale force head wind developed. The Cromwell gorge was the perfect geological formation for exacerbating wind strengths and on the precipitous track it was challenging to keep control of the bike. When we reached the suspension bridge it was swaying around in a very concerning way. We decided to walk across with Howard doing a John Cleese silly walk impression as the bridge rolled underneath him.

We got to Bannockburn parched and I offered to grind up the hill to the pub ( while Howard changed batteries) to see if I could rustle up a couple of cold ones to enjoy when we reached our accommodation. After expending my last few kilojoules of energy reaching the pub, it had closed 15 minutes earlier, I hummed Slim Dusty’s song as I limped back down the hill.

The strategy for our biggest ride of the tour was that I would leave an hour before Howard. Our first objective was Duffers Saddle ( appropriate name) at 1,280m elevation. It was steep and I had to walk the sections where the gradient was up at 20%. Howard caught up to me 2/3rd of the way through the climb. It was tough but very rewarding as we hit the summit with the Nevis Valley spread out below us framed by the Remarkables on one side and the Old Man Range on the other.

The saddle was just the begining. After a descent of around 500m we then had 60km of extremely challenging road (or lack of) and a further 500m of climbing through to Garston in Southland, not to mention 23 river crossings. By the time we arrived we feeling like real adventurers with very wet and cold feet.

We were viewing the ride to Mossburn as a rest day. However, barely recovered from the punishing ride through the Nevis, we were greeted with a drab, wet and cold day as well as a flat rail trail. The problem with flat is that you have to pedal all the time. At least with hills, you only have to pedal going up them. To make matters worse, our meagre food supplies had been exhausted the previous day and we were running on a minimal breakfast ration of muesli and, with our first potential cafe stop nearly 40km away. Howard was experiencing hot pie mirages and my c-bike battery was flashing on red. Then like a sunburst through the cloud we saw the word CAFE and our bikes turned in perfect formation, not unlike the ‘red arrows’, as we zoomed in on Five Rivers Cafe. I expect that they have retired on their earnings from our visit.

We made a quick detour into Lumsden (all visits to Lumsden should be brief) for food supplies and of course to claim our most southerly point of the trip. There is some debate as to whether Howard’s visit to the canned fruit aisle or my brief encounter with frozen foods, claimed that location. After that, things deteriorated even further as the flat terrain and long straights had us debating the features of power poles. We decided that they were like current political polls, left leaning to start with, moved to the centre, then sharply right and at times, all over the place. Fortunately, Mossburn appeared out of the gloom and we trundled into town at peak hour. After tangling with the only car on the road we missed the turnoff to the railway hotel and nearly ended up in Te Anau.

After a hearty meal, and a couple of celebratory beers to make up for our previous two soft drink nights, a good nights sleep and an early breakfast, we headed out into the early morning chill for our 94km ride through to Mt Nicholas Station on Lake Wakatipu. Things were looking good, the trail had a few corners to keep us on our toes and, we had a tail wind with the promise of a sunny day. The World was our oyster. That lasted until we reached the turnoff to Mavora Lakes back up in the mountains. While we tried to eat our very soggy wraps that we had picked up in Lumsden, the wind did a 180 degrees swing on us from a gentle tail wind to a stiff head wind. The significance of this got blasted into our faces as we crested the next hill and saw the expanse of the Von Valley spread out in front of us, complete with steep mountains to provide the perfect channel for the ‘breeze’ to whizz down.

After nearly 1,500km with out a break and on mostly rough gravel and rocks, our butts were well past imitating tenderised steak. When we finally ground our way to the top of the Von valley all we were dreaming of soft beds, forget beer and food, just something soft to sit on. The last 10km seemed to drag on for thousands of kilometres but eventually Mt Nicholas Station appeared. We had no idea of where we were meant to go. We aimed for a dwelling and found a person who called the station HQ. They had forgotten about our booking but two apologetic ladies met us at the shearer’s quarters and set up our rooms while we propped ourselves up against anything that looked more stable than us. We had the place to ourselves and with only a short ride to Walter Peak this morning we enjoyed the lack of km that needed to be covered to get here to Queenstown.

Well we made it. Some basic final statistics and high & low points.

Distance: 1,515km – Elevation gain: 16,100m – Hours on saddle: 102hours – Best Cafe: Culverden, Flying Pig in Duntroon a close second – Scariest Moment: Negotiating Dunstan zig zags in a gale – Biggest mistake: riding Port Underwood on day 1, Close second, no rest day during the ride – Most unique stays: Camden Cookshop, DOC camp Molesworth and Mt Nicholas Station – Most challenging ride: Nevis Valley – Most tiring ride: most of them…… you get the picture.