Tour Day 7 – To cross the Southern Alps

Another great 11 hours sleep in the bag and another huge breakfast on the way. What a great morning. The sun was duelling with the thick clouds and when it did break through it was very very warm. I scoffed a good greasy spoon breakfast and to complete the feeling I had that I was in a UK cafe a larger than life English wideboy came to chat to me. Now don’t be confused by the term boy, this guy was probably in his late 50s, rather round, grey curly hair poking out from under a cheesecutter, shirt open to expose an horrific hairy chest with enormous gold chains fighting to tame the vegetation. He was like a walking caricature and he was lovely. He was truly amazed I was biking round by myself, said he’s chatted to a French girl who was doing the same sort of thing and thought we were crazy, but great. He had heaps of questions and was so intrigued he was even trying to drag his companions over to meet me, but they were bored and uninterested. He was impressed with my breakfast eating powers and suggested that porridge would also be a good start for the day, which I agreed with, until he suggested topping it with plenty of Irish Cream! I bade him a fond farewell as he drove off and I saddled up in a fantastic mood and looking forward to great challenge the day had in store for me. Almost 800m of climbing and 80ks till the next town, bring it on!

Today’s ride again managed to step up the beauty and magnificence of my riding environment to a whole new level of mind-blowing loveliness. With the heavy overnight rain the Haast river valley I was riding up was alive with hundreds of waterfalls, from the small happy road-side ones to the enormous roaring monsters high up in the mountains. It was so heavenly I couldn’t stop smiling and my face hurt. With so much water flowing down the mountainside there were many, many TransitNZ signs with often silly names for all the streams and creeks I was crossing. Then I came to a sign that read Imp Grotto. I thought that someone was getting very lyrical with their names and then I saw Imp Grotto. It was a deep cleft in the rock face and inside water poured down. The light hit the cleft at such an angle that the white water seemed to glow green. It was possibly the most beautiful thing I’d seen on the trip and that’s saying something. It was made all the more special by the fact that unless you were moving at bike pace you would never get to see it. I wanted to stop and photograph it, but it’s on a narrow corner and there’s no safe place to stand. I didn’t need reminding that this is the reason cycle touring is fantastic, well one of the reasons.


After a morning tea stop in the drizzle I made it to Pleasant Flat, which was aptly named and had a nice big lunch which I shared with the Brown Creepers and Chaffinches. Then it was onto Thunder Creek, at the base of the Haast Past. Even though the road had been gentle climbing I felt like it was actually going downhill and I’d made great time, with my legs feeling really strong. My plan for the day involved stopping at all the bush walks and enjoying this place as much as possible so I tied my bike to the information sign at Thunder Creek and headed into the bush. Only a minute later I popped out on the river bank to see a lovely waterfall. After a brief stop I was back on the bike and the climbing started.


Soon I was at the Gates of Haast, where the river tumbles violently through a deep and narrow gorge strewn with enormous boulders. The water roils like an angry, trapped beast, battering its way down the gorge with roars of defiance. It is a very cool place and apparently causes tourists to abandon their sense of reason. As I biked up towards the singlelane bridge, which had tight corners on the entrance and exit I came upon a man parked in my lane. Not off to one side of it, but in the middle of it, facing me, effectively blocking the bridge. What an idiot! I gave him the evil eye as I slowly rode straight towards him. When I got to the bridge and stopped for the obligatory “this is where the climb really starts” photo I looked back and saw he’d pulled off the road into parking spot, which had only been 5m from him the whole time. Duh!


From the Gates of Haast the road pitches up into a nice hard 10% gradient and for the first time on the whole trip I was really feeling the weight of my luggage. I had to work really hard for the next kilometre or so, egged on a group of young English lads who were stopped on the side of the road leaning on their, pretty much unladen, bikes. To be honest I would have stopped where they were if they hadn’t been there, but as is the way of the cyclist, I smiled, called out a few words back to them and continued on as if this climb wasn’t bloody hard work. My breath was steaming out of me in clouds before my eyes as I climbed through the damp forest, with the constant roar of the river to keep me company.

Sooner than I expected I reached Fantail falls, where the road and river both flatten briefly. They are lovely falls and I scoffed that staple of the New Zealand confectionary counter for generations, the K Bar, to up my sugar levels and keep me going. Here at Fantail Falls the rock stacking phenomena which seems to be becoming more and more prevalent throughout NZs lovely areas, was in great force. It’s like people see these amazing places and just have to leave their mark, I’ve begun to see these little cairns as eerie graffiti. They look like little burial mounds left by ghost folk who need to shape their world.


I continued up the road in the drizzle, passing some more road workers on the road who told me I was almost at the top. I didn’t really believe them because people who mainly drive have a very different concept of “nearly at the top” to people who get there under their own power. So I was amazed when a few minutes later I reached the Pass! I had thought I had about another half hour of climbing based on my assessment of how long it would take me to do this climb. I was extremely happy with this and cruised down the other side grinning like a fool.


Onto the next stop at the Blue Pools and a nice 30 minute walk through the bush to crystal clear deep pools that just cried out to be swum in, but it wasn’t warm enough for that sort of silliness. The serenity of the place was broken by two excitable middle-aged men who spotted some huge trout drifting in the pools and started yelling to each other “Do you see it?”, “There it is!”, “Look at the size of that one!” even though they were standing next to each other on the bridge. It was actually pretty cool. These guys were just like excited little boys and I love when people forget their inhibitions and let their joy take over. Their wives weren’t too happy about this and left and I ended up walking with them for a bit. They were also very interested in my trip and had lots of questions, like Was I scared? What was my bike called? Why do it? They were really nice and offered to take a photo of me, but I said I already had plenty of photos of my bike and that was my best side anyway.

The walk back up to the road revealed one last gem to me, with my fascination for birds. A pair of Rock Wren, which I’ve never seen before. They were absolutely adorable with their short little legs, squat bodies and beautiful bright plumage. They seemed so friendly and inquisitive and I fell in love with them. It was just the icing on an already amazing cake of a day! Along the road a bit more and I was in Makarora. Upon entering the visitor centre, which is the restaurant, shop, pub, accommodation and trip booking office, I was overwhelmed with the mouth watering smell of roast beef. Oooooh, just what I needed. I quickly booked a dorm room, which I once again had to myself, rushed up to my little A Frame house, had a nice long shower and headed back down to the bar, visions of meat swimming in gravy in my head. I was horrified to discover that no dinner was available until 7:30pm! It wasn’t even 5:30 yet and I was dying of starvation. The young English bartender asked if he could help me and I asked if it was possible to get some food earlier and he said no! Unable to remember my manners as my low blood sugar took over I asked him if (young children look away now) he was fucking kidding? I then explained that I’d just biked here from Haast and that I was extremely hungry and did he have some wedges or something like that I could order. I couldn’t believe it when he said no, just the sandwiches over there. My mind struggled to comprehend that I was in a restaurant and pub and couldn’t get a feed. I decided to have a cider to calm down and think about what I’d do for food. I knew I couldn’t wait till 7:30, I was struggling to stay awake as it was. The very nice and understanding barman went out the back and talked to the chef while I sat in the corner of the bar getting quickly drunk on my cider and writing. The chef came out and yelled out “Who was the woman who wanted some fries”. Without hesitation I called out me! And he told me that I couldn’t have the ones in his hand, but that he’d bring me some shortly. Saved! And they were very good and only $4. Woot.

Full of potatoey goodness and swaying slightly from my pint of cider I headed back up to my dorm and went to bed and was asleep just after 7! It had been a fantastic day, I'd crossed my first Alp and I was actually sad that tomorrow would be the last day. I decided that I wanted more riding and thought that I’d maybe go on to Cromwell, rather than stop in Wanaka, after all what’s another 50km?

Haast to Makarora - 80km in 5hr 14 (800m climbing)

Tour Day 6 – Swamps and jungles, the first taste of sandflies

It seems that 7:30am is the perfect time to wake up when you go to bed at 8:30pm, that’s the time I was waking every day of the tour. I woke on day 6 to a bit of drizzle, with splashes of sun and felt fantastic, despite having an OSM for breakfast. On the road and the day just got more and more lovely, with mists drifting through the lush forests on either side of me. It was chillier again, but I warmed up quickly as I cruised along listening to the morning bird song and singing to myself. In no time at all I was at Lake Moeraki, which looked lovely under grey skies. Up in the forest above the lake a group of Kaka played in the trees and I felt very lucky to have seen this. A spot of food and I was on the road again with the rain started shortly after.

Who names a creek The Windbag?

Today’s rain was gentle and pleasant and as I started the climb up to Knight’s Point I was actually loving it. It was perfect climbing weather and my new found love of climbing was rewarded with some nice undulations leading up to the lookout at Knight’s Point. I took some photo’s, but was slightly concerned about the amount of water falling on my camera, as you can see. It was amusing watching the Japanese tourists from a big bus lining up for the loos and trying to shoo the sandflies away with their umbrellas. Snickering, I headed off and had a brief chat with an English cyclist a little further up the road. Then the sun came blazing out and I took off my jacket and replaced it with the orange vest of visibility and dorkiness and continued climbing. At one point I saw a flock of at least a hundred wood pigeons. Flying together like this they actually looked graceful in the air, rather than their usual unco drunken appearance. I must have been getting hungry because they looked a bit like pies on wings to me!


Zooming down the other side of the hill and I came to Ship Creek, which was where I had my first encounter with the dreaded sandfly menace. I’d done a bit of research into the best insect repellent to use of these monsters and had decided to go for the less carcinogenic and safe for clothes and plastics concoction of a 50-50 mixture of dettol and babyoil. I’ve used this before and it seemed fine. My first mistake was heading under a shelter to apply the mixture, instead of staying out in the breeze. Hundreds of the wee buggers instantly swarmed around me and as I put my helmet on a handy table heaps of them covered it, since it was still warm and fragrant. I liberally covered all my exposed skin with my mixture and while it didn’t actually repell the bitey beasts, it did stop them biting and I was happy with that.


I headed out on the first of two walks at Ship Creek, this one taking me along the dunes to a lovely wetland that runs along the beach. It was amazing walk through such diverse ecosystems in a 20 minutes. Wind-swept sand dunes overlooking the surging west coast sea, dense reed beds opening to still fresh water, and thick native forest full of bird song and wet, green life. Amazing.

Returning to the starting point of that walk I headed off in the other direction on the swamp walk up the river. There were lots of bellbirds around, their wonderful song adding to the magic of the place. I noticed that the boardwalk at the start of this track was sitting right on the water and could see why there were signs warning it was prone to flooding. I’ve never really been into a native swamp land before and this place was amazing. The river flowed slowly by to the left with shags keeping a sentinel watch over the banks, and to the right thick forest, with water everywhere. Stretches of water were covered by bright green plants which formed a rich, luxuriant looking carpet. Moss and lichens grew everywhere and water dripped constantly. Rounding a corner in the track I came to the mighty Kahikatea stand. These are the tallest trees in NZ and their habitat is vanishing as their swamp homes are drained. The biggest of the trees was truly magnificent, reaching to the heavens with its crooked fingers, an old man of over 500yrs age.



Returning along the track I soon discovered that flooding of the boardwalk entrance was not a rare occurrence and the boards were covered with half a foot of water. No wonder I had the track to myself. I quickly disrobed my feet and waded across. The water was cold and crystal clear and on the other side I pulled my socks back on, but not high enough (my second mistake)! I discovered on returning to my bike that I’d left the level of my left sock 5mm lower than when I applied the sandfly repellent. Well actually the sandflies discovered this first. I discovered a clutch of the little shits all crammed in that tiny space feeding on me. The mixture obviously worked for me because these were the only bites I got when wearing it. After dispensing with them I sat on the beach listening to the thunderous roar of the sea. It is always so angry on the west coast, just the way I like it. Huge waves smash down on the beach, sending spray high into the air, filling the breeze with salt. Unfortunately my stomach was telling me it was time to move on, so I headed off down the road.


Not far from Ship Creek I got to Haast Junction and rolled into the pub there for a huge burger and a beer. The pub was incredibly depressing, filled with extremely old people, munching their lunches. I sat in the corner fuelling up and writing, finding the whole atmosphere surreal. I was happy to get back on the road and get to Haast a few minutes down the road. I got myself a little tin cabin at the camping ground and head to the shop for supplies. Another pleasant evening was spent reading, eating and giggling at the wood pigeons that seemed to fall out of the bush behind my cabin on to the tin roof with an almighty clatter. Later the rain started up, drumming hard on my metal roof and I drifted off to sleep before it was dark.

Lake Paringa to Haast – 55km in 3hr 27

Tour Day 5 – I’m not water soluble

A band of marauding keas greeted me as I got dressed, five of them calling as they circled the town, like naughty school boys looking for mischief. Booking the room in the hostel was a great idea because I caught up on my lost sleep and felt fantastic. Another huge breakfast under the belt and I was off, trying to beat the forecast deluge of rain. It was another wonderful morning for riding, a bit chillier than any of the previous ones, but clear as a bell. Wisps of cloud clung to the valleys around me and the forest was right up to the edge of the road. Riding along I could look into its green depths and it was like looking into an impenetrable jungle, wild and untamed. The cloud soon rolled in and I donned my fluro vest as it was pretty gloomy and I was wearing a lovely green which matched the surroundings perfectly. A crystal clear stream ran beside the road and I crossed numerous gorgeous single lane bridges. The diversity and complexity of these bridges is amazing, it’s like the engineers who designed the roads and the bridges thought, “Hey, here’s our chance to try out all these fancy bridge designs we’ve been reading about!”


I stopped for a bite of morning tea off the beaten track and pushed into the bush. It was so gorgeous, verdent and sweet smelling, bursting with life, even in the decay of fallen trees. As I sat eating a delicious Summer Roll a South Island robin came and talked to me. With his silly long legs and tiny body he was adorable. (In case you hadn’t noticed earlier I’m a bit of a twitcher, or bird geek, so this trip was brilliant for me).


As I set off the drizzle started and something about it made me think this was going to go on a bit more than the previous little showers I’d experienced. Finally! I had the chance to try out my new Helter Skelter rain pants. Quickly removing my over shorts and stuffing them in my pannier and donning pants and rain coat I was ready for the West Coast rain. And it didn’t disappoint. After a few minutes the drizzle had turned into a shower and by the time I got to Bruce Bay further down the road it was pouring down. I loved it. My pants and jacket did their job and I was comfortable in the rain. I stopped at Bruce Bay to admire the beach art and scoff some sweet treats while tourists stayed bundled up in their campervans.


Unfortunately, further along the road I can across a couple of stretches of road works. The first was short and muddy and in a quick sprint it was over. The second was long and muddy, at least a kilometre of gravelly mud. I rolled up in time to see the lollypop man flick his sign from Go to Stop and didn’t relish the idea of waiting in the now very heavy and cold rain for 15 minutes while the traffic from the other end came through. Luckily the lovely man saw me, radioed through to the other end and flicked his sign to Go with a wave. I thanked him and sped off. It was nice having the whole road to myself, apart from the diggers, and rollers and bulldozers of course. These machines had very friendly drivers who all had a smile and a wave for me. Shoes and ankles covered in mud and gravel I made it to the other side after dodging uncounted potholes and commiserated with the lollypop man at this end about standing around in the rain. He offered his sympathies to me pedalling in this weather.

Not long after the road works I was whizzing over another one lane bridge when an old van pulled up behind me. I moved over as soon as I got off the bridge and off they went, only to stop 20m up the road. I cruised past slowly and the lovely Spanish (I think) boys inside offered me a lift. I thanked them, but said no, it was a lovely day for a bike ride, they probably thought I was mad. I wasn’t about to cheat just because the weather was appalling. With a friendly wave we parted and I started to notice that I was getting rather hungry. I could feel my body burning up fuel to try and stay warm and it was starting to falter. I saw a sign for a salmon farm with a cafe 5km up the road and decided that I’d be stopping there for lunch and a cuppa. By the time I got there I resembled a drowned rat and was very pleased to see that the walkway to the cafe was covered. I stowed my bike in a covered picnic area, then wrung out my socks and shook the gravel out of them. I jumped around a bit to shake off some of my excess water and to get warmer and headed inside for a pot of tea and a hot pie. Feeling slightly renewed I stowed an enormous piece of lollycake in my bag and got back on the wet road, with Paringa in my sights.


At the Lake Paringa motel I was disappointed to discover they no longer do meals, but I booked into a dorm room and spent the next 30mins in the shower thawing out. Hmmmmm hot showers are great! I then converted the bathroom into a drying room and spent a relaxing afternoon reading, writing and dozing. Not to mention eating of course. I also explored the lake edge in the rain which was very lovely. The rain was falling so hard that tiny droplets would bounce back up out of the lake and dance on the surface like tiny spheres of light. This made the whole lake seem alive.


Once my washing dried I crawled into bed, very happy to have the whole room to myself and fell asleep to the soothing hammer of the rain. I’m glad I got to experience a proper West Coast down-pour, my tour wouldn’t have been complete without it.



Fox Glacier to Lake Paringa – 71km in 3hrs 46

Tour Day 4 – They said it would be hard

A shocker of a night’s sleep, was only slightly redeemed by the morning view of the glacier from my tent. Once I started moving round I felt awful and it took me twice as long as normal to pack everything away. My whole body felt like it had been infused with lead, including my brain. I pootled slowly into town and headed straight for the Speights Landing Bar and ordered myself a Miner’s Breakfast which consisted of bacon, eggs, sausage, hash browns, tomato, and pancakes with maple syrup. While waiting for it to arrive I got out my elevation map of today’s ride and felt a sense of dread. Even before I left on the tour people have been telling me how difficult the ride from Franz to Fox would be, the steep steep roads and repeated hills. In Okarito a couple of people even thought I was crazy for trying to ride over these passes on a loaded bike. All of this was not confidence inspiring and with my sleep deprivation I was feeling pretty down.


After scoffing what was the best breakfast of the whole trip I got on the road. At least it was sunny. I spun along, trying to get my body to wake up and my legs to work properly. I was envisaging a 3 or 4 hour journey to cover 23kms to Fox. Soon the first hill reared up before me and I dropped down into an easy gear and before I knew it I was at the top and, even better, I was feeling fantastic. The road was gorgeous, forest on all side, with glimpses through to valleys and distant mountains. Bird song the whole way, tui’s flitting around from tree to tree, like they were encouraging me to keep going. I flew down the other side, grinning, using the whole lane, no brakes, feeling the adrenalin thump through me. I felt like a new me.

After crossing a river I was into the next climb and a stream of cycle tourists passed me. I actually slowed right down so they’d get ahead of me, I just didn’t feel like being sociable. I did say a cheery hi to them all, but apparently they were working too hard to reply. I found this amusing. I had all day, I wasn’t pushing myself too hard, I was basically la-ing along with plenty of breath for chatting to passing cyclist, tuis or telling myself about the stunning views. I don’t really understand the smash yourself mentality when you’re doing a cycle tour. Surely the point is to be able to take in all the amazing things around you?

I had a couple of rest stops on this climb, just a couple of minutes each, sitting in the sun, looking at the views. Again I was at the top before I expected it and this descent was fantastic, 3kms flew by in a couple of minutes and me face was frozen by the wind chill as I reached speeds of 60kph. Vooooom! Then I rounded a corner and saw the final and steepest climb. My initial thoughts were, surely not, that can’t be it! Unfortunately the photo doesn’t do this zigzag justice, I had to stop and regroup before slipping into grannies and starting the spin. Once on the slope it didn’t seem so bad, harder work than anything I done previously, but not that bad. The first zig was done and now the slightly steeper zag was disappearing under my wheels. It was definitely steep and this climb seemed to just keep going, so I stopped a few more times before reaching the top with a whoop of joy.



The descent into Fox was the fastest of the day and I was buzzing once I stopped in town. Fox is not like Franz Joseph. Franz is like Queenstown, glitzified for the tourists. Fox is like Alexandra or Cromwell, it makes a bit of an effort, but has a much more local down to earth feel. I ordered myself a pizza for lunch and decided I felt so good that I would continue on to Lake Paringa after visiting the glacier. Half a pizza stowed in my panniers I headed off up the valley and as I rode I felt worse and worse. The weather had changed from bright blue sky to gloomy damp clouds and I was getting cold. I finally made it to the car park and quickly donned my orange jacket. I immediately noticed the fantastic DoC warning signs which cheered me up greatly. (They inspired this poem.) I also noticed the “Don’t feed the k eas” sign and was worried about my bike and its luggage at I started the perilsome trek to the glacier. I say perilsome (which I don’t think is actually a word, but that’s never stopped me before), as the signs warned of falling rocks, not stopping, chances of flood and various other impending dooms. Of course that didn’t stop some of the tourists wandering away from the marked track to look for pebbles. *Shakes head*


I love Fox Glacier, with its amazing blue ice and contrasting grey striations. This vast volume of water has been locked up as ice for thousands of years and now great chunks of it come free. There is a gaping maw at the toe of the glacier, not threatening to devour those that come to see this beast, but devouring the glacier itself. Great cracks and fissures climb the walls, ready to shatter at any moment. The glacier seems almost fragile at the moment, its life blood flowing down the valley. However down the valley stands testament to its awesome power, a sheer rock face that was once the inside of a mountain. Scythed through, perfectly straight and cleanly cut by this retreating shaper of worlds. Hopefully this force of nature will advance again and not be lost to future generations. The cold air of this staggeringly large mass of ice was chilling me and I left.




My bike was unmolested by keas, happily, and I zoomed off down the hill, intent on returning to Fox and finding a bed as I was actually struggling to keep my eyes open, even on the bike. On the way out I spied an old suspension bridge across the river. It is well hidden in the bush now and not very well sign posted, so I suspect it doesn’t get many visitors. Like its partner at Franz I have fond memories of this bridge from my childhood and had fun revisiting those by bouncing across the bridge and swaying to and fro above the surging meltwater river.


Back in Fox I booked a room in a backpackers and after a long hot shower to warm up went straight to bed. I slept for 3 hours solid and woke up in time to grab some food from the shop round the corner before eating leftover pizza, watching a bit of TV and zonking out again. I was very tired, but it had been a great day. I’d climbed to Fox in under 2hrs, which was a great achievement and from here on the journey would only get more and more picturesque.

Franz Joseph to Fox Glacier – 36km in 2hr 54 (500m climbing)

Tour day 3 – Mucking about in boats

Being in a tent I was up with the sun and took a trip to the old boathouse overlooking the lagoon for breakfast. Mist was drifting across the water and the air smelt sweet. It was going to be a lovely day. I took some arty photos and strugged through another OSM, then I went back to my campsite. After stringing up a washing line I grabbed some money and went and hired a kayak.



I spent a tiring, but wonderful 2 and a bit hours paddling round on the lagoon. I got up close to a couple of beautiful white herons, watched dotterel's diving for fish, saw schools of fish swim under my boat and drifted up stream through narrow river bends to secret places in the forest. It was amazing paddling on beautiful clear, but amber coloured water, seeing great fallen trees under the surface like monsters of the deep. Forest birds came down to chat and it was just magical. My arms hurt by the end of my trip, but I felt energised by the wonderful serenity of splashing around in this special place.









Driven by hunger I packed up my gear and got on the road for Franz Joseph, wishing I could stay in Okarito another day. I will definitely be back there with my lovely husband and together we'll go out at night and find wild kiwi and fully explore the lagoon. And we’ll bring plenty of food! The ride up out of Okarito seemed quicker and easier than the ride in, but that probably isn’t such a strange thing. It was yet another stunningly gorgeous day with perfect blue skies above the forests around me. I stopped briefly at Lake Matheson for a nibble and a photo. I struggled to my feet at the end of the wharf and then had to sit back down so a tourist could take a photo of me. I’m so interesting! Up round the corner and I could see the snow-capped peaks of the Southern Alps and they drew me on. Then tragedy.



As I rode up a small hill and round a corner I came across more road-kill, but this looked slightly different and on closer inspection I saw it was a kiwi. I almost cried at seeing it, my first wild kiwi, crushed on the road like that. Its graceful beak crushed into its side, its neck twisted round and its delicate brown feathers wafting in the breeze. It was heartbreaking and I wanted to stop and move it off the road, but it was far too dangerous so I rode on in sadness. The only thing that lifted my spirits was my first glimpse of the mighty Franz Joseph glacier up ahead. The mighty glacier is quite a sight, even from kilometres away.



I rolled into Franz mid-afternoon, a very hungry girl, but sorted myself out an extremely expensive tent site before heading into town for food. My luck was in when I found a bar that was doing a happy hour special of $20 for a pint and a big plate of spag bol. Just what the doctor ordered. I sat outside to wait for my meal and listened to the ever present buzz of helicopters coming and going from the glacier. Being thirsty I also got stuck into my beer and before I knew it I’d drunk half a pint on an empty stomach and when I rang my hubby I found it quite difficult to speak properly. We both found this rather hilarious. The spag bol was fantastic and once I’d wolfed it down I got back on my bike and headed up the road to see the glacier.



I’ll admit the reason I missed the sign leading to the foot of the glacier was that pint of beer, but I wasn’t too worried. I had a nice hour long walk in the bush, saw the glacier from a distance, talked to the birds, and discovered the old swing bridge from when I was a kid. Back then it didn’t have all the additional support and my mum wouldn’t let us cross it, so I finally got to cross this bridge, but it wasn’t as exciting as back then.



The ride back to town was fast and downhill and after stopping at the shop for second dinner I headed back to the camp ground, ate more, did more washing and was tucked up in bed late. Again sleeping on the ground was pretty painful for my poor shoulders and chest, and this was not helped by the morepork that took up residence in the tree I was camped under, or the crying baby in another tent. Sigh. The joys of tenting.

Okarito to Franz Joseph - 40km in 2hrs 15

Tour – Day 2 The road is long

Woke up still feeling tired after 11 hours of sleep. Had an OSM for breakfast and then headed a little way into the Ross Goldfields for a look, then a quick stop at the shop for supplies and I was off. Today would be the only day I'd get off the main road during the trip. I made the decision to take the coastal Bald Head Road, which was a smooth gravel road through farm land and forest. There was no traffic and with the sun rising and the birds singing it was great. So great that I broke into song for a while and then I stopped on the banks of a recently excavated stream and had second breakfast in the sun with the birds.

Back onto the main road for a stretch and first stop was Pukekura with its giant sandfly and cute baby thar. I introduced Murphy and then I was on the road to Lake Ianthe and where I stopped for some journal writing. I can tell I'm going to need to get a thesaurus before I finish my tales of this trip as I'm going to be over using adjectives like beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, amazing, breath-taking. Eighteen k's down the road I got to Hari Hari in good time for lunch and found myself a nice dry picnic table to have a wee nap on. On the way out of town my butt was getting a bit tired of Rocky so I had a horsey ride for a bit to give it a change of pace.

I was feeling pretty beat after Hari Hari and then I came to Mt Hercules, which made me laugh, but not in a good way. My first climb of the trip and I learnt a very important lesson. I liked the climbing. I like it way better than the long, straight stretches of road through farm land. I also discovered that a climb isn't that bad once you're on it. I cruised up Mt Hercules, enjoying the forest, and just gently spinning away at a comfortable pace. Before I knew it I was at the top and zooming down the other side. My butt and legs were telling me all about the climb and I stopped at a creek and soaked my feet for a while in the clear, cold water.

Onto Whataroa, where I was going to make the decision about weather to push on for the extra 25km that would see me to Okarito. As soon as I pulled into Whataroa I could almost hear the banjos playing, I was not staying there the night, it was not a nice little town. It did however have a playground from a bygone area, when slides were deadly and swings were 3 foot off the ground. You wouldn't catch me on a slide like that unless I was wearing armour, I shudder to think about it.

Fueled up on ice cream and looking forward to a meal in Okarito (oh, ho ho!) I headed off.
I'd printed elevation maps for each leg of my journey out so I could get a rough idea of what the terrian had in store for me each day and today's map showed me that the last 10kms were all down hill. I was hurting by the turn off to Okarito and mentally hurting a bit more when I saw it was 15kms, not 10 to Okarito. Then I was flying down the hill, happy as a happy thing, until the road suddenly went up and up. Then down a bit, then up some more, then a bit more up and then down. So undulations all the way. Whenever its all downhill, its not, remember that kiddies. I rolled into Okarito around 7pm and was starving and so very tired. Set up my tent and had a long hot shower, and taking a trick from Eleanor Meecham, did my washing at the same time, then explored the town. This took less than a mintue and I quickly realised there was no shop, or pub, or anything. Which meant no hot meal which was very disappointing indeed after my first ever 100km ride and OSMs, bananas and cookies for dinner were not in any way satisfying for all the hard work I'd done. I've never wanted savoury food so bad in my life, but I forced the sickly sweet OSM and a half down. My tastebuds recoiled at the sugary deluge and I couldn't taste the banana I ate afterwards so I saved the cookie.

I watched the sun set on the beach and I was so glad I'd come to this magical place. The birds calling, and the gentle wind swirling made the end of the day perfect. I felt so good that I even went for a walk up a hill through the bush, you know, just for that wee bit extra exercise.
Unfortunately sleeping on the ground was not something my injured chest enjoyed very much and it woke me many times in the night. At one point I was happy to be awake as I dashed to the loo and looked up. The stars were amazing. I haven't seen such a profusion of them since I was up at Mt Aspiring as a kid. There were so many stars that I could even see the black patches where there are nebula in the night's sky. I watched shooting stars for a couple of minutes and then snuggled back into my wee tent.

Ross to Okarito – 105km in 6hrs 37

Tour – Day 1 Drama at the train station

I've heard or read somewhere that all good adventures start with a drama, although maybe that's just the romantic in me. My adventure started with a drama that could have stopped it before it even got started when there was a mess up with my ticket. Luckily a lovely ticket lady sorted me out and I was very relieved to have my bike safely stowed in the baggage car and me tucked away on the train in time for departure. I even got a window seat for this wonderful start to the journey.

Rolling through Cass on the Transalpine

Starting my tour on the train was both a practical and romantic idea. Practical because its easy to transport a heavily laden bike by train, and romantic because trains are creatures of myth and mystique. When you think of the great trains of the world, or of your fond memories of programmes like The Railway Children from when we were growing up, there was always an air of adventure about the train. And here in New Zealand trains are a rare breed so a ride on one is all the more special.

Rainbow valley

The journey over Arthur's Pass and onto Greymouth was great, with a wonderful commentary by the train manager who'd work on the railways his whole life and made no bones about making his opinions known on everything from privatisation to musicals. Just before arriving in the Pass we rolled past a valley that was filled with a rainbow and I was filled with happiness and I also realised that this means we're heading towards grey weather, and as I stepped out on the cold, damp platform at Arthur's Pass it is indeed a bit inclement. The journey to Greymouth is over soon and I'm getting my bike off the back of the train, eating a banana and hitting the road, full of emthusiasm.

Ominous Arthur's Pass

Soon the sun is out and I'm cruising along, revelling in the freedom. I stop briefly at Kumara Junction for a huge hunk of quiche and a drink and then I'm off to Hokatika. The traffic is not heavy and the milk trucks make plenty of room for me and I'm grinning. A people mover goes past me and pulls into a driveway up ahead. Two women get out and instead of going straight inside they wait till I go past them and cheer me on with calls of “go for it!” and “you're doing great”. It puts a smile on my face and I wonder if they wish they could have an adventure like this, or if I'd get the same cheers if I was with my husband or was a guy? I see some American cycle tourists coming the other way and they also offer their encouragement.

Driftwood on the beach at Hokatika

Soon I'm on the beach in Hokatika, eating a triple chocolate cookie in the sun and breathing in the salty west coast beach air. I had my only scary moment of the whole trip leaving Hokatika. Crossing the Hokatika river is a long two lane bridge with low sides. As I cycled along I realised that the guard rail was at just the right height to very effectively tip me over with my top heavy bike if I went into it. This freaked me out a bit as it was a rather substancial drop to the gravel riverbed. I moved slightly away from the rail and then a bus blasted past me at full speed, sending me wobbling towards to the rail. I remained in control, but my heart lept into my throat and I was very grateful to reach the otherside of the bridge unscathed.

Murphy and Rocky Ell take a rest on the beach - lazy!

Just after Hokatiki a “nice” strong headwind picked up and my pace slowed to a crawl, well what felt like a crawl. My legs weren't happy about the wind and Ross seemed to take forever to arrive. When it did I was relieved and splashed out $20 to stay in a cabin at the Historic Empire Hotel. After a long hot shower I had a massive feed of venison, chips and salad and a beer and was in bed asleep by 8:30pm, setting the precident for bedtime for the rest of the trip.

Very cool pub in Ross

Day 1 Greymouth to Ross 68kms in 4hr 12mins.