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Cycling buddies, pancake rocks, a spot of glamping, dangerous roads and my first abandon of the ride in New Zealand would mark my final few days on the South Island.  

In the last 4 days I had cycled nearly 600km and had literally flown up the west coast of South Island with a strong south westerly tail wind blowing me along. Most days had still been wet, but the wind which is every cyclists worst nightmare was in my favour.

Every kilometer I cycled north the temperature got slightly warmer and for the first time in over a month of cycling in New Zealand I had slept without my thermals which was an achievement in itself.

The day before due to a rain delayed start I had cycled 120km to a coastal village called Rapahoe, which was slightly short of the town of Punakaiki which was my 150km target where I had planned to have a day off the bike.  My plan for the day was to cycle just the remaining 30km to Punakaiki to go and see pancake rocks and have a few beers. Not quite a day off the bike but the close enough.

When I have only an hour or two on the bike my approach to the day completely changes.  I haven’t set an alarm on any day off this cycle trip and just wake up naturally; normally with the sound of birds making a racket in the trees over my head, which although it can be annoying at times, isn’t a bad way to wake up each day.  Even though on easy days I wake up around the same time I normally put a brew on and then sit out in the morning light enjoying the day break around me.

I then sort out my kit by getting everything out of the tent and, if the day is dry, I hang everything up to either dry from the day before or to give my stuff an airing as things start to smell after a while when they are stuffed into dry bags.

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This day was no different and whilst I was hanging everything over a picnic table Bernard, who was a fellow cyclist that I had met the night before at the campsite, came over for a chat. He is from Belgium and was cycling with his girlfriend Marina who is from France.

The first thing that cyclists always do when they meet a fellow rider is to check out the kit they are carrying with them. Bernard said that he was towing a bob trailer and so I went to have a look.

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Now most cyclists are concerned about weight when they decided to go on a cycle trip but it seems that Bernard and Marina skipped over that page in the hand book as the first thing that I saw was a tent the size of some London flats.

20161121_200808This thing was huge – normally the decision is whether to cycle with a  one man or two man tent but this thing could easily sleep a family of 6. The other thing that they did not save space or weight on it seemed was food – no dehydrated  food rations here. Breakfast for them was muesli with fresh fruit with fresh milk. All of this was washed down with freshly brewed coffee in a cafetiere.

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It seemed that this pair liked their food as this was the first course and was to be followed by bacon and eggs, yep they even had a special container to carry the eggs, served on fresh brown bread.  I was liking this part of their cycle plan especially when Marina offered to make me one too.

Marina went to the kitchen to cook while Bernard and I started to pack away our respective camps to pack away. Marina came back 5 minutes later to say that it was past check out time and the kitchen was closed for cleaning.  Instead, once packed they would head to the beach to cook the bacon and eggs.

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My stuff was still airing so I aid that I would meet them there and whilst waiting I sat down with my laptop to research things to see along the way to catch the ferry to the North Island in a few days’ time.

Whilst I was researching the owner of the campsite drove past and said that it was now well after check out time and I needed to be on my way.  I said okay and they drove off out of the campsite while I packed my stuff up.

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I then realized that I hadn’t actually paid them for my nights stay as the office was closed the night before when I had arrived late.  As they had been a bit rude about me still being on the site I thought never mind and packed up my kit and pushed my bike to the beach to meet the guys who were cooking bacon and egg sandwiches.

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When I arrived the bacon was cooked and Bernard was just putting the finishing touches to the scrambled eggs.

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Once ready t was time to sit back and savour the flavor of freshly cooked bacon and eggs served on fresh bread.

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I was loving the way these guys were travelling but the amount of kit that they were carrying with them was phenomenal – they had 4 fully stuffed panniers each plus a trailer.  It seemed that they were also carrying with them a fully portable kitchen – they had knives and forks, chopping boards, a selection of plates and pans and even nearly 2 litres of fuel with them to cook with.

The day had turned out to be beautiful and the sun was shining so we sat on the beach for an hour or so chatting and enjoying the peace around us.

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This was when they pulled out the piece de la resistance from their panniers – a selection of cheeses served on crackers with a jar of chutney.  Now this really was the way to travel.

It was early afternoon by the time we packed up the kitchen and headed out from the beach.  They were also heading for Punakaiki and the pancake rocks so for the first time in nearly 7000km of cycling I would be cycling with another couple who were not Fraser and Trinh.

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Bernard’s mobile home or ‘bus’ (his bike and trailer) took a fair amount of grunt to get up the hills that were along the coastal route and so I would cycle ahead and then wait for them to catch me up while I was taking photographs or videoing the coastline as it really was stunning scenery.

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Along the way we met a pair of cyclists from Denmark who were going in the opposite direction.  As is customary when you meet another tour cyclist on the road you all pull over for a chat.  These girls were also on their way around the world but were doing it in the opposite direction to me and were on their way to Asia via a quick trip to Australia to cycle from Sydney to Perth.

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We had only cycled around 10 km when we passed a mobile Thai food truck parked by one of the beaches and it seems that Bernard needed more fuel to pedal his bus along as he wanted to stop and get food.

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As I had already eaten more in a morning than I eat in a whole day I said that I would carry on and see them later at the campsite that we had planned to stay at in Punakaiki.  My cycle trip with other cyclists had lasted all of 10km but it had been good while it lasted as Bernard and Marina are brilliant fun.

The rest of the road to Punakaiki was pretty flat as the road followed the beaches next to the sea. There were a couple of climbs around headlands but nothing too severe
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After an hour I passed a sign announcing my arrival in Punakaiki where I had come to see pancake rocks.  I wasn’t sure where they were in the town but as they are one of the more famous features along this section of coastline I was sure that they wouldn’t be too hard to find.

Just after the town sign there was along up hill section and as I crested the top I saw a café with 3 coaches parked in it’s car park and so knew that I had arrived.  There was an information point which I was cycling over to when one of the coach drivers stepped off his coach and so I pulled up to ask him what there was to see.

He said that the pancake rocks were down a pathway which ran from the café around a headland and back to the car park.  There are also ‘fake’ geysers which shoot jets of water 20 meters in the air.  They are not really fake but instead of being caused by thermal activity they happen when the waves hit the rocks and are forced through small gaps in the rocks several vertical ‘blowholes’ during high tides. The bad news though was that I had arrived at low tide and so I would not be seeing any geysers that afternoon.

It was now time to go see the pancake rocks and so I cycled down the path that led around the headland.

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The Pancake Rocks were formed when alternating hard and soft layers of marine creatures and plant sediments were laid down under the sea over millions of years. Erosion and immense pressure compacted these layers into the limestone formations that we see today along this stretch of coastline.

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Here is a video that I shot along the way to see the pancake rocks

After visiting the rocks it was then time to go and find the campsite and seeing as it was such a beautiful day to find a pub and have a pint.

The campsite I found without any difficulty as it was at the bottom of the hill from the headland that I had seen the pancake rocks and right next to it was a pub.  That was me sorted for the rest of the day.

I checked into the campsite and put my tent up next to a river and as the campsite was next to the beach I went to test how warm the water was.

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On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the warmest and 1 being freezing, I would give it a 2 or 3.  From the temperature of the water I nearly expected to see an iceberg from Antarctica floating past.  All thoughts of a swim went out of the window and instead I went for a shower before heading for the pub.  (Not sure what my body would cope with showering three days in a row though)

I left a note at the check-in office to tell Bernard and Marina where I was and then went to see what the action was at the pub.  Now action was a relative term as when I walked in there were more staff than paying customers so I pulled up a seat at the bar and chatted with the staff for a while.

Around 7pm the place started to fill up with tourists in search of food so I grabbed myself a table and joined the herd.  When ordering food in New Zealand I try to work out which ne offers the biggest portion for the price and when I asked the staff they said that the meat pizza specials were good value so that is what I had.

When it arrived it was full of toppings and tasted so good. After my mammoth cycling session over the last few days even though it was a 12 inch fully loaded pizza I was still hungry so I ordered another one.

As I was finishing Bernard popped his head around the door and I waved him over.  Marina was not up for a beer so this left us with a couple of hours of drinking before the bar closed which we made good use of.

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The following morning I had planned to head over back over the Southern Alps and despite waking up with another thick head from beers the night before I dragged myself out of bed when I woke up and got the porridge and coffee on.

I went to the loo for my morning constitution and when I was sat there I got a movement that I wasn’t expecting when the whole building started to shake.  It only went on for a couple of seconds and I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination or not.  When I looked at my bag on the back of the door it was swaying and so it must have been one of the many large aftershocks that have been hitting both the north and south islands since the earthquake.

By 9am I was all packed up and ready to hit the road.  Bernard came over to say bon voyage and wish me luck and then I was on my way for another long day on the bike as I planned to crack the 150km mark by nightfall.

When I set off the road followed the coastline and it was as beautiful as it had been the day before

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This section of the coast is very deserted and the beaches have a wild quality to them

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After 50km I came to the town of Westport and I was going to stop for lunch but when I was stopped at a roadworks waiting to be let through I got talking to one of the workmen and he said that there was a nice café called Berlins which was about another 20km up the road so I decided to press on.

Westport was my stop point for my journey up the west coast as I would now turn east and take a road which followed the Buller River into the mountains.

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I like roads which follow rivers as they tend to be undulating as they head upstream rather than out right steep and this road seemed to be no exception if the road signs could be trusted.

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The road wound itself around the curves that the river had created as it snaked its way towards the sea.  Even though I was going in the opposite direction and following the river upstream towards it’s source the road was never steep.

After another hour of cycling I came to Berlins and pulled in to get some lunch. I was now at the 70km mark and was making good time towards my 150km target for the day.

After a quick lunch I was back on the bike and the road continued to follow the river.  The road began to get steeper and as the river entered a gorge area the road went over the tops of the gorge

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The scenery here was worth the effort that it took to climb and the clear blue waters of the Buller River looked beautiful

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Just after the 120km mark I had conquered the gorge area and it was time to roll down the other side to meet up with the river once again

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I then came to a junction and for the first time the sign post was for Picton which was where I would catch the ferry from in a few days time.

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Just 199km more to go but perhaps more importantly for me that day I only had another 20km to hit my target.  A quick check of the map showed me that there was a campground on the other side of Murchison but whether it was far enough for me to pass the magic 150km mark for the day I would have to wait and see.

For the first time that day the traffic I encountered was crazy.  I was being passed by truck after truck and they were flying along at 100kmph just inches away from me.  The wind that they generated when they came past me was like a mini tornado.  Thank god I only had a short distance until I could pull over the night as this road was no fun.

It was getting late by the time I reached Murchison and after a long day on the bike I didn’t fancy cooking so I stopped at a supermarket in the town and picked up some bread rolls and ham.  My next stop was the chipper to get a portion of chips but I had not realized that it was Sunday night and in Murchison the chipper was closed.  It looked like tea would just be ham sandwiches and pressed on to find the campsite that I had seen on the map.

I was back in deer country and all along the sides of the road out of Murchison were fields upon fields of deer which was a welcome distraction from the trucks which were hurtling past me.

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I then passed a sign for the campsite and I was so happy to get off the road. As I pulled into the campsite I stopped my watch to see whether I had accomplished the target that I had set myself for the day

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I had done it -150.9 km for the day with over 1600m of climbing.  Not a bad days work and my legs didn’t feel like they had climbed that far. Perhaps it was time to be thinking about getting in another Ironman race on my cycle around the world.

At the start of this ride I had a rule that if I did not regularly use a piece of equipment within a month then it got given away.  The only thing that I still carry with me that I don’t use is my swimming goggles. I have now cycled them around New Zealand for nearly 7 weeks and I can’t quite give them up.  There is a half ironman that next year in Portugal that I may have a stab at and if so I need to get back swimming at some point in the future.

That was for the future though and my immediate plan was to check in and tuck into my ham sandwiches and a brew on as I was hungry and starting to get cold.  The tent could wait and even though I would have to put it up in the dark I had now lived in it for a month and a half that I could probably do it with my eyes closed.

As I was making my sandwiches in the kitchen area the owner popped by to say hello and to see if I needed anything as I was so late checking in.  I asked her about the trucks and she said that since the earthquake this road was the only one that was open on the whole of the south island to get further north and any vehicle that wanted to get to the north island would have to drive up it.

This explained why so many trucks had passed me since I had turned onto the road just before Murchison and would make for a very unpleasant and potentially dangerous ride for the next few days if I was now stuck on the only road north for the next 200km.

The owner asked which way I was going and I told her north and her words were – ‘good luck with that’ as there was a 25km mountain section up ahead which was not built for trucks and had no shoulder for most of it.  The good news was though that after this 25km section most of the truck traffic turned off as there was a faster road to the ferry at Picton than the coast road that I was going to be taking via Nelson.

After finishing my sandwiches and cuppa I pushed my bike out into the dark and went to find a quiet spot to pitch my tent.  That night the background noise would not be my fellow campers as they opened and closed the doors to their camper vans but the sound of trucks barreling down the road.  Every town that you pass through in New Zealand has a sign asking trucks not to use their engines as a brake to slow the truck down in the vicinity of a town but here in the countryside there was no such sign and with the constant traffic and noise they made all night it was like sleeping next to a motorway.

The next morning the sun was shining and it was dry which such a bonus is always.  I was up at 6am as I wanted to try and get on the road before the cars and vans got going for the day.  It seemed like my fellow travelers had been woken by the traffic too as by the time I had finished breakfast and got packed up everybody else on the site had already left.

As I set off from the campsite the valley that I was in was wide and open and the road still had a bit of a shoulder to it so even though the traffic was heavy it was not that bad to cycle on.

I then hit the hilly section that the owner of the campsite had warned me about and the shoulder disappeared completely.  This section of the road was the worst the most dangerous that I had cycled since setting off from Vietnam in July as the traffic came through here at 100 kmph and it was like a two lane country road back in the UK with barely enough room for vehicles to pass each other let alone if there was a cyclist on the road too.

I know that the trucks have to use this section of the road to get north but they could have at least put a speed limit on this section as it was bloody dangerous.  It seems that the road was not built for such heavy traffic as along the sides of the roads cracks were beginning to form as the heavy loads were destroying the road surface.

I contemplated stopping and hitching a lift in a camper van as the volume of traffic along the road was crazy.  When I had come over Haast Pass on the west coast there had been no shoulder to the road but I was able to push out to slow the traffic down.  Here on this road there was no chance of doing that as the trucks were flying around the blind bends and would not have stopped in time.

My only option was to pull over when I heard a truck behind me and count down the kilometers to the turn off to Picton that I knew most of the traffic would take somewhere up ahead.

The only consolation in all of this was that the road was still following the river below and so the view was pretty good.

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After 90 minutes of cycling I came to the sign that I had been hoping would mark an end to the most dangerous ride of my journey so far

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If the traffic didn’t improve once I passed this turn then I was going to give up and hitch a lift as it just wasn’t worth chancing it by continuing on cycling all day especially when I get tired towards the end of the day and can start to drift out into the road.

Two things happened once I passed the turn – the first was that 90% of the truck traffic disappeared and the second was that the shoulder of the road reappeared

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I thought that this deserved a celebratory cuppa and so pulled over to make one.  Within seconds there must have been hundreds of sandflies around me so I abandoned this idea and got back on the bike and would stop further down the road.

Now that the worst bit of road was out of the way I could think about a plan for the day.  My destination that night was Upper Moutere where a lady called Fran had offered me a place to stay for the night. The village lies in the middle of a mountainous area with no obvious road to get there from the direction that I was coming from.

On my map there appeared to be a cycle route that would take me on logging tracks over the mountains for the last 20km and would be a ride of 100km for the day.  I f I stayed on the road then I would need to cycle nearly to Nelson and cut back on myself which would be nearer to 140km.  Even though the mountain route would be harder it would be more preferable than the main road so as long as the rains held off I would take this route.

I was now into my main climb for the day which was over the top of Hope Saddle but the sign told me that it wasn’t going to be too much of a climb

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The climb was steep from this side but the good news was that after 2km I came to the sign that I was looking for now that I was climbing over saddles on tar sealed roads.

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I was now cycling through an area of Pine Forest and the trucks on the road were double trailer logging trucks.

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There seems to be a different mentality amongst logging trucks than normal freight trucks as the drivers give you much more room on the road and will stop behind you rather than trying to push through.

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There was a good shoulder to the road now and so I was able to easily pull off the road when I heard a truck coming behind me.

As I descended off Hope Saddle it was time to find a spot for lunch and so pulled over at the next picnic area that was sign posted off the road and got the cooker fired up for a pot noodle.

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After lunch I still had another 20km to go until the turn off which would take me over the mountains but the road was descending as I followed a river downstream

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The bad news was that now I was on this side of the saddle I was cycling into a ferocious north westerly wind that would at times see my speed drop to single figures even though I was following the river down the valley.  The next 20km to my turn off would take me nearly 2 hours to cycle as I had to grind out every kilometer as the wind did its upmost to halt my progress.

Eventually I came to the turn off and there was a café on the corner and my legs were pooped from the wind and the 150km that I had covered the day before.  I knew that the rest of the way to Fran’s would be over mountains and pulled over to get a coffee and a snack.

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The café was a funky little spot and it seemed to double as an artist exhibition space which had lots of crazy pieces made from scrap metal dotted around the place which you could buy

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The sausage rolls that most places sell here are pretty awesome and instead of being the thin long sausage shaped ones you get in Europe they are serve more like Beef Wellington where you get a huge slab of meat covered in a thin pastry coating.  I ordered one of these with chips to go with my mug of coffee that I had ordered.

Coffee is another weird thing to order here as the cup sizes are different in each place I seem to go (although at 5NZD a cup I don’t go that often) and so when you order a long black which seems to be the biggest it is not always.  Now I just ask for a mug of coffee and wait for them to show me the cup before asking if they have anything bigger.  The lady who was serving me said that she could do a bowl of coffee and so I ordered one of them.

When the coffee arrived it did what it said on the tin and it was served in a soup bowl, no handles just a big bowl of coffee.  That would get me over the mountain without a doubt.

Once I was fueled up I was ready to hit the road and went off in search of my track which would take me over the mountains to Fran’s.  A kilometer from the café I found the track and headed up it.

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The track was pretty steep as it climbed up out of the valley but the view made up for it.

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Once I had climbed over the top of the ridge the descent the other side was a bone shaker of a ride as the rough logging track went down into the next valley

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I was once again cycling through Pine Forest and after a couple more kilometers I came across my worst nightmare – a closed gate with a sign which stated private, no entry without permission.

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There was a phone number for the managing agents of the forestry block on the sign so I got my phone out to call them but there was no signal down here in the valley.

I was left in a quandary, I could turn back over the ridge that I had just descended down or as the gate was not locked I could just carry on as the chances of meeting somebody in the forest was remote unless they were logging further down the track.

As I could hear no noise ahead of me which hopefully meant that they weren’t actively logging this block I decided to chance my arm and opened the gate and continued down the track.  The track started to head back uphill and over into the next valley.  When I crested the ridgeline I only had another 15km to go until I was out of the forest area but I could now hear the sound of machinery below me.

As I descended into this valley a guy with a high vis jacket on came up the track on a motorbike.  He pulled over to have a word and he wasn’t bothered that I was cycling through private land but said that I couldn’t carry on as they were clearing the next block of forest about a kilometer up the track and it would be too dangerous for me to try and cycle through.

As this was the only track through I could of cried as I now had to retrace my steps back over two mountain ridges and back to the café that I had set off from over an hour ago. I would then have to take the main road to Fran’s and with the double back my 97km cycle would turn into nearly a 140km cycle with close to 1600m of climbing for the second day in a row.

As I had left the campsite so early that morning I still had plenty of time left in the day but with a heavy heart and tired legs I turned the bike round and for the next hour cycled back the way that I had come and back to the café.  The only bright side was that the strong wind was now behind me and pushing me along.

When I reached the café I was once again heading north into the gale that was blowing down the road and had to just stick my head down and get on with it.  My map showed me that there may be another way through to Fran’s which would potentially save me 15km by taking a turn off at Wakefield and following the road up Pigeon Valley and over Dovedale Saddle.  It would again be over the mountains but would get me out of the headwind and save me 15km.  I now had phone signal and texted Fran to make sure that I could get through on this road without having to take logging tracks and she replied that I could.

When I arrived in Wakefield I went to take the turn that my map showed only to be confronted by a police car and a road closed sign.  It turned out that they were using this road for a cycle race and it would not be open until the race had finished in another hour.

Getting to Fran’s was turning into a mission and I seemed to be turned back at every turn. Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be and I should just carry on to Nelson and bin the offer of a place to stay but some of the best experiences I have had on this trip is when I stay with people and so I pushed on. Also, I know that people do go out of their way to put me up by making me a dinner for when I arrive and making plans around me.

I texted Fran to say that it would be nearly dark when I arrived.  She had been expecting me to arrive about 6ish but it would now be after 8pm when I finally got there.

I carried on down the road and I was now entering wine country and was cycling past field upon field of vines.  If one of the wineries had been open at this stage I would have stopped for a glass or two as my easy 100km cycle had now turned into a 140km slog into a headwind.

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My day didn’t get any better when I passed a sign indicating that the road would take me over Moutere Saddle.

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It wasn’t the biggest saddle in the world at only 197m but at the end of a 130km ride where I had climbed over 1400m into the strongest headwind so far it was enough to nearly finish me off.  I was down to crawling pace as I came over the top and couldn’t be bothered pedaling down the other side and just rolled my way to the bottom.

On my way down the other side I saw the ocean away to my right and an island away in the distance.

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I didn’t think that it was the north island as it was a three hour ferry ride away but wasn’t sure what it was.  I pulled over to check the map and it turned out to be Nelson away in the distance with a huge hill behind it.  That would be my ride tomorrow as I knew that there was an off road track over it.

I now saw the sign for Upper Moutere and knew that Fran lived off one of the side roads as I entered the village.  I found the road and checked her address on my phone.

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Underneath the road sign are the numbers of houses along the road and the highest number was 414.  Fran’s house number was well over 300 and given the size of the properties that people lived on this could well be another 5km down the road.  I set off down the road and it soon turned to gravel and started to climb but ended up more rolling than an outright up.

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After a few kilometers I came to the number I was looking for and turned into their drive.  I was greeted in the yard by Fran who had the biggest smile on her face and her mother, Chris, who was over from England and staying at the house.  Tom, Alex and Sam, who were Fran’s 3 kids soon came out to say hi, along with the dogs and Rune, who was the brother of Fran’s husband, who lived in another property on the farm.  It was quite a welcome and from being in my own cycling world I was suddenly surrounded by 6 smiling faces which cheered me up no end.

The first order of the night was to get a hot shower as my bones were cold from the wind and rain showers that had been falling all day.  Once clean and warm Fran gave me the biggest dish of vegetable casserole topped with potato mash, and I just filled my face I was so hungry.

Within 30 minutes of arriving I was clean, warm and fed and my washing was in the machine getting a clean too.  I wouldn’t have to put my tent up that night as Fran had already set a tent up for me on the grass outside as she thought that I would get a better night’s sleep rather than being woken up at 5am by 3 kids running around the house.  That night I would be glamping though as there was a proper double mattress which filled every inch of the tent.

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The next morning when I got up at 7am the house was already a bundle of energy with the kids playing on a play station and running around the dogs were chasing each around the house.  It was in a way the perfect picture.

Fran was busy at the stove cooking breakfast which I think she had put on especially for me – bacon and eggs which smelt amazing.

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Around 8am it was time for the school run and Rune came over with his girlfriend, Jocelyn, and their son Kane.  It was another house full, but a very happy house.  The only dent to the day was the steady rain that was falling.  Fran said that I could stay for as long as I liked but I wanted to push on and get north.  When I checked the weather service it looked like the afternoon would be clear and dry so that morning was spent chatting and catching up on my blog.

As predicted the weather in the afternoon cleared and around 3pm I set off back down the gravel track towards the main road.  The track passed the school and as it was kicking out time I was able to stop and say goodbye to the kids as they came out of school which was nice.

The plan for the afternoon was to find the Great Tasman cycle trail which would take me to Nelson where I planned to camp the night before heading over Mount Richmond on a final off road track before getting the ferry at Picton.

Chris had said that I could pick up the cycle trail by catching a ferry to Rabbit Island from the town of Richmond.  I set off and didn’t fancy going over the top of Moutere Saddle so took a gravel road which skirted around the side of it.

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By the blue sky above you wouldn’t know that it had been raining solidly for the last 7 hours which is the remarkable thing about the weather in New Zealand.  I was soon descending back through the fields of grape vines to catch the ferry in Mapua.

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The ferry ran on the hour and I got there at 3.58pm so just had time to cycle on board before the gang plank was raised and we were off.

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The ferry is only a two minute hop over the estuary and I was soon on my way across Rabbit Island.

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Rabbit Island is a long narrow island and the first part of the track heads through pine forest

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It then heads through a very picturesque lane way which is surrounded on both sides by hedges and wild bush

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Eventually the track emerges on the far side of the island at a stunning long sandy beach.

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The track followed the beach until the far end of the island where it looped back on itself to a causeway back off the island.  I followed the track all the way around and it was a great cycle.  I had finished my eat, sleep, ride cycle and so now I was just rolling along enjoying the afternoon sunshine.

Once off the island the Tasman track wound its way through fields and along rivers on its way to Nelson which lay about 20km north

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The track brought me to Richmond and from there I could either stay on the coast into the center of Nelson or take a disused railway track around the backside of Nelson.  I checked the map and the Maitai Valley that I needed to cycle down to pick up the mountain track was at the end of the railway so I took this.

The track ran for 11km to Nelson and just before the end I was able to take a road into the Maitai Valley.  The road followed a river up the valley.
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In the morning I would be able to pick up the mountain track that I needed from the end of this road.

The earlier rain had returned and I passed a sign for a campsite so pulled in to see how much it was.  As it was only 10 NZD I would pay and use their facilities – lounge, kitchen, showers etc rather than set up next to the river.

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The weather service had predicted that the following day would be a wash out and there would be rain from 8am for the whole day.  I woke at 7am and quickly packed the tent away before heading for breakfast.

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At 7.50am, just as the Met Service had predicted, the heavens opened and the rain lashed down driven by gale force winds.  It was time to sit out the storm and I got breakfast on.

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As I was eating breakfast I got talking to a mountain biker and he said that the track that I was planning on taking would be a nightmare with the bike setup that I had and I would end up pushing the bike more than riding it.  This triggered something that Sue and Derek had said when I had stayed with them in Pukerau on my very southern route at the beginning of my cycle through New Zealand (read post here)

I logged on and checked their cycling blog and found their review of the track that I was about to take and the upshot of this was that they said that it was hell and that it wasn’t really a bike track that could be cycled.

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You can read their full report of this part of their ride by following the link here. This would be my first ‘abandon’ of the trip and I tend to ignore advice from non-cyclists when they say that it will be difficult to ride, but when people who have cycled the track have reservations then I follow their advice.

As it was raining and now two different people had basically told me that the track was not ride able I changed my plans and instead I would follow the main road around to Picton.  The distance was only around 100km and so if I pushed on I would be able to make the last ferry of the day which left at 7pm.

As I was now going to be cycling on the road the rain didn’t matter and I put on my wet weather gear and headed off into the rain.

I followed the river back down the valley towards Nelson and picked up the main road which would take me the final 100km to the ferry in Picton. The map showed that the road followed the coastline for the first 10km so I just headed towards the sea where I found the road that I needed.

I knew that the road would head into the mountains at some point which meant that I would still have to climb over Mount Richmond but as it was on tar sealed road then I didn’t anticipate that it would be too difficult a ride.  Still, I thought that I should get some food on board before I headed into the hills and pulled over at a 4 Square supermarket to pick up some bread and ham.

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Another 5km down the road and I was into the foot hills and would soon be climbing as a sign for a passing lane indicated.

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I nearly jumped out of my skin as a cyclist passed me on his road bike and said hello as he was out on a training run.  When I cycle I really do tune out and go into my own little world.  I’m not sure what I think about all day as there really is nothing to think about when you are on the road.  At the beginning in July my day used to be occupied by routing and thoughts of where I would eat or sleep but after a while these thoughts drift away as I eat when I’m hungry and can sleep anywhere.  If you check out my Where I Have I Slept page you will see the random places that I have slept in the last 7 weeks and just how little I have spent on accommodation.

My favourite sign soon appeared which showed me just how hard a time I was in for

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I now knew that I had about an hour and a half of grinding in front of me as I climbed over Mount Richmond and settled back to enjoy the view

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The road took me up into another area of Pine Forest and as the sun was now out the smell from the forest was wonderful

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The road here had a narrow shoulder but as the traffic was light then there were no worries about getting knocked off as I reached the top of the climb

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Now that I was over the top of Mount Richmond I thought about stopping for a couple of ham sandwiches when I rounded a bend and was greeted by another 9km of climbing

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This was an area known as Rai Curves and the sandwiches would have to wait until I had climbed my way out of this set of hills.

As I have given up looking at a map on tar sealed roads then my mood and enthusiasm seems to be driven by the road signs that I pass on the road – climb signs get me determined and focused while at valley signs I tend to sit back and enjoy the ride.

Once over Rai Curves the valley in front of me opened up and I was once again greeted by a beautiful view that kind of reflected my mood on the bike – it was time to kick back and enjoy the ride.

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Worryingly, the rain had returned. I decided to sit it out and wait for it to stop so pulled over to eat the ham sandwiches that I was going to have before the last climb.

The rain soon passed and once I had finished eating I set off down the valley.  I was now following a beautiful river as it wound its way next to the road.

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The rain returned but it was not enough for me to don my wet weather gear.  If this had been the 4 weeks ago on the south coast I would now be freezing cold and pulling over to get out of the rain but as the temperature 1500km further north was at least 10 degrees warmer during the day I could get wet and just wait for the sun and wind to dry me out.

I was still under a time constraint as I had to be in Picton by 7pm to catch the ferry so after a quick sandwich I pushed on and soon came to the town of Havelock.  Here I had a choice, I could stay on the main road which was flat and wide or take a side road which is called Queen Charlotte Drive.  This side road followed the coastline and was very windy on the map.  The main road would be double the distance but was probably faster given the tight turns and headlands that the side road would inevitably rise over.

I still had two hours to make the ferry and my mapping app showed that the distance was 33km.  I should still be able to make the ferry if I took the side road and so decided that the side road would be more scenic and the better option.

Before setting off I texted a guy called Simon who lived in Wellington who had offered me a bed for the night to see if it was still okay to turn up at such short notice.  He replied that it was okay so at least I would have a bed for the night when I arrived on the North Island.  The ferry crossing was 3 and a half hours so we arranged to meet up in a pub for last orders before heading back to his place. All I now had to do was make sure that I made the ferry.

Havelock, is not actually on the sea but on the side of a wide bay where an estuary leads to the sea.  As I climbed up Queen Charlotte Drive and over the first headland I had a great view of the bay and the last mountain that I had come over.  On a sunny day it must have looked stunning.

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On the other side of the headland I was greeted by the sight of Mahua Sound which runs out into the Cook Strait which divides the north and South of New Zealand and hopefully if the road wasn’t too steep for the next 33km I would soon be sailing my way across it.

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The road followed the side of the Mahua Sound and on one of the descents I even overtook a camper van which was winding its way along the road.

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To be fair though they had a more difficult job than I did as all along the road there were large cracks in the tarmac and the edges had subsided due to the recent earthquake.

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The view along the road was beautiful and in each of the bays that I cycled past there were yachts moored up ready to set sail and thread there way through the hundreds of islands that made up the sounds on this part of the coast.

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It was now well nearly 6.20pm and around every headland I expected to see the town of Picton but was disappointed as I was met by the sight of another headland.  To make matters worse the road had begun to climb steadily.  I pulled over to check the distance on the map and it showed that I still had another 8km to go which would take me a good half hour given the terrain.  It would be touch and go  whether I would get there by 7pm and could only hope that there wasn’t a cut off time for loading before the ferry set sail.

At 6.50pm I rounded the final headland and could see the ferry below me.

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The car park leading up to the ferry was empty which meant that all the cars must have loaded but the rear doors were still open so I sprinted my way down to the ferry terminal to see if I could still get on the ferry.

The guy at reception must have thought that I was slightly demented as I burst through the doors at 6.55pm trying to buy a ticket for the 7pm ferry. Luckily for me the ferry had been late arriving and would not set sail until around 7.30pm so I still had time to get my bike on board before they closed the doors.

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As the ferry was running late I texted Simon to say that it looked like I wouldn’t make last orders after all and would just meet him at his house.  He replied that as I was running late he would drive down and pick me up to save me having to ride up a steep hill to his place which was fantastic of him.

As they finally closed the doors and set sail there was only one thing to do and that was to open a beer as a final toast to the brilliant time that I had had cycling round the South Island of New Zealand.

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As I stood on deck and watched the South Island slip away I reminisced about my time on the South Island and although there had been high and low points during the past 5 weeks of cycling there was one thing for sure – I had finally found my climbing legs somewhere en route.

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Goodbye South Island (NZ)
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One thought on “Goodbye South Island (NZ)

  • December 4, 2016 at 8:57 am
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    Keep pedalling and keep posting. I for one read every word. NZ sounds a bit pricey for a family holiday, and so looking forward to your travels in South America. Cheers. Chris

    Reply

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