When a headwind is constant on the plains, you never get a pause from pedalling. No rolling downhill. No break. To take my mind off the grind, today was a podcast listening day.
Today was actually slowly downhill – losing 700m over about 80km. Such a slow descent makes it like the flat. I stopped regularly to rest – to replace the regular rests of going downhill in a more undulating terrain.
The sun was beautiful. I enjoyed that – the rain is returning tomorrow.
The weather was beautiful. I had a nice tailwind. I cycled along peaceful countryside roads. But I felt tired. Overtraining? Anyway, an early night is planned.
I left Jake’s place with energy and excitement. The plan was to ride up to another beautiful mountain lake at St Arnaud and then roll down the valley tomorrow to the east coast.
I followed the Great Taste Trail again up some country roads, stopping for an ice cream before climbing over a small saddle to change valleys to cycle to Tapawera. This is where I crossed my route on day 1, and where I met Jake – who was my host last night.
The road continued upwards with another little pass to change valleys. The climb really took it out of me, despite the sun and tailwind.
The lake is beautiful.
Big dinner and an early night.
I looked at the road switching its way up above me, and laughed with joy. My body felt strong, the sun was shining, and the music was pumping in my ears. I felt on top of the world – and after the climb, I was.
I get a rush from the exertion, doing something most people can’t do. It makes me happy.
Before the climb, a few hours were spent at the town of Takaka, swapping out dead brakepads and eating to get some energy for the climb.
I’m staying with Jake in Motueka – a cyclist I met on day one of this trip. We shared cycling stories, and he gave some tips for my road ahead.
The northwest part of the South Island of New Zealand looks like a kiwi. I am staying just under the start of the beak – at the base of a 30km spit of sand. I had a busy day exploring it, the nearby cliff faces and the famous Wharariki Beach.
I cycled out from the end of the Heaphy Trail and back to civilisation – the town of Collingwood. The weather has changed – the sun has decided to shine and the rain has stopped.
I left my accommodation at 1pm with a mission. To see as much as possible. The Farewell Spit.
The cliff faces looking over the Spit.
And Wharariki Beach.
I returned to the beach for sunset.
It’s been a long day. Tomorrow begins my trek to Picton where the ferry is waiting to take me to Wellington and my flight home.
Leaky valve – change bike tube. Loose baggage rack – put in screws. Brake pads dead – use my one spare. Technical issues went through my mind today as I bumped along over the rocks in the rain.
It alternated from drizzle to heavy rain as I lay in my snuggly sleeping bag. It remained like that all day. The rain stopped as I crossed the Gouland Downs. A beautiful view over the wide expanse of swampy brown grass.
Then a short walk to the hut at the top of the track before I walked my bike down the mountain. On my bike it’s impossible to cycle over this playground of soccer ball sized rocks.
My brake pads continued to disintegrate at alarming speed as the rain continued to act as lubricant. The last 5km of track was cyclable with fewer big rocks, although I had to step off when it was even vaguely steep to spare the brakes. Tomorrow the sun is coming out, so it will be a return to normality.. 😀
I’m staying in the hut at the bottom of the mountain with an eclectic group of people. Most are going up. One guy has just cycled the whole Heaphy Track in one day. A group of 20 year olds are going to do it in one day. One has never been on a mountain bike before. A frenchman and an American are walking, as are a retired couple from New Zealand.
I was quite proud of my acrobatics yesterday, dancing over the rocks in the river as I pushed my bike through. My feet remained dry. Today the rivers were knee deep. Shoes wet – just bash on regardless.
The day started sliding through the mud and bouncing over the rocks until a slow and steady climb started (sliding through the mud and bouncing over the rocks). I had to use my brakes a lot in the wet, wearing them down very quickly.
I had memories of East Timor in the rain. I got through a set of brake pads in an afternoon. Today my mind stayed with the brake pads – I only have one spare set.
The road stayed in a moist forest most of the time. Green moss covered everything giving it a mystical feel. Rain fell on the canopy, percolating to drips and moist air below. The climb kept me warm, but at the top, the weather closed in, and it was rug up and push on.
There was noone at Saxon Hut when I arrived. I replaced my brake pad, had dinner, and then welcomed a pair of cyclists. Experienced cyclists, they gave me lots of tips for the road ahead.
‘I think a weka would have taken it.’
The wise New Zealander was probably right about my spare cycling shorts. Drying on my back pannier, they must have fallen off. Noone found them. The New Zealand bird, famous for stealing clothes, now has a padded nest.
The sun poked through briefly this morning. It was wonderful being able to enjoy the beautiful scenery. The Heaphy Trail is a Great Trail of New Zealand, and hugs the coast, rising and falling over every creek and hill. A lot of pushing was involved.
Scotts Beach was a barren beach on a rugged coastline with beautiful rock boulders on the beach. It all felt very windswept and wild.
I reached the hut by 13:30 and was surprised not to be the first. The hut slowly filled. It was a nice afternoon and evening sharing stories, walking along the beach strewn with logs and a dead dolphin.
Tomorrow hay will be made while the sun is shining. The weather forecast for the following day is crap.
When the rain is steady, the cyclist’s mind turns inward. The kilometres are mind games, punctuated with sudden thoughts – look outward. Live in the now. Look at that fern. That bird. The crashing sea shrouded in grey. The west coast is wet.
I wanted to get to the start of the Heaphy Trail. The weather forecast is constant rain for the coming days, so waiting it out wasn’t an option. With no reason to dawdle and check out the sights on the way, I ventured out into the rain.
A picnic lunch in the camp kitchen at Mokihinui and then a climb and drop in the rain was the order of the day.
The rain eased for the last hour enough for me to put in my earbuds and listen to the US election. Trump it is.
Tomorrow the Heaphy Trail.
‘Have you just come or are you going?’ the lady asked at the entrance gate to the Old Ghost Road.
‘ I have just changed my mind,’ I replied. Today, I took my heavily laden bike on the main road and not on the steep, narrow mountain bike route. My gut feeling was that this was the safest thing to do.
I was at the entrance gate with the German, Fritz, when a mountain biker came out of the little hut next door.
‘I don’t want this to sound bad, but are you sure you want to do this?’
Yes. I knew it was steep. And narrow. I’d have to carry my luggage up the steep bits separately. He went on, and I realised that my super heavy bike just wasn’t the right tool for this task. I checked out the first 500m of the trail and turned back, disappointed but sure I had made the right decision.
I continued on the main road westwards to join the other end of the Old Ghost Road. As the weather got wetter and more miserable, I was happy I wasn’t 1000m higher on an exposed mountain ridge.
I was planning to have lunch in Westport but my drowned rat instincts decided it was time to call it a day. Tomorrow morning there is a short break in the rain. I might try to do some kilometres before I get too wet.
The sky was pink behind the snow capped mountains, a band of cloud hovering around waist level. The water was still, reflecting the sky. The ducks were calling, and then a black swans swam by, with a little baby – a shabby white, following. The morning was peaceful and beautiful. Lake Rotoroa.
Today saw a steep grunt over a small shoulder and then a trip following another river down. There was even 4 water crossings, shin deep.
Today was a tranquil meander along the backroad to Murchison – the only town for 80km, and the only town I’d see for days. I stopped, ate, drunk and charged my external batteries.
I saw the Germans again at the camping ground at the start of the Old Ghost Road and had a nice dinner together before a very early evening.
I also saw a weka – a New Zealand bird that always fossicks around. It even steals socks. I hear. My smelly socks were banished into the tent.
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