Hugh Spear's Blog

Day 9 - Wanaka to Queenstown 88 kms

Having had at nice breakfast with Jude and left her with an awkward hug, I headed off. This was my last day on the bike, and by this stage in my journey, I wasn't really thinking about the cycling. Instead I was thinking much more about people and places. Jude I'm sure, had never planned to bring strangers into her beautiful home, but her husband's stroke had left here alone at home, and the healthcare costs of his care home, had drained their savings.  She needed the money, and was pragmatic enough to stop feeling sorry for herself and to get on with it.

It was a cold start, which meant it was clear.  I headed down from Albert Town to Wanaka and then off towards Cardrona. On the way I saw this strange sight of hundreds of bras draped over a fence and some signs saying 'Bradrona'. 

Cardrona is quite an historic area, linked to the gold rush. So you get nice old federation style buildings like this.

The road is not particularly steep, until you've passed the Cardrona Hotel. So that makes it a good place to stop for coffee. 

After the Cardrona Hotel you climb into the Crown Ranges. This is a long windy climb. 

 

When you get to the top, the view is worth all the effort.

 

You can see over 30 kms ahead, all the way down to Queenstown in the far distance. 

There is a plaque at the pass, to tell the story of why we are here.

There were a few other cyclists at the pass and I took a photo of a few of them using their cameras. Then it was back on the bike and a nice long easy descent into Arrowtown. A beautiful, almost unspoilt old gold mining town.

After Arrowtown it is a flat-ish trip over to Queenstown. But you have to dip and climb over the Shotover River at Arthur's Point.

 Eventually you reach the shores of lake Wakatipu and Queenstown. Here you can see the Remarkables mountain range in the background.

 

At this stage, I needed to start to sort out the logistics of my return journey. I'd rented a car for my final 24 hours. This was to help me to get a bike box from a shop and transport the bike in the box to the airport. It also gave me the option of going to Glenorchy for my final morning.

After getting the car, and the box, I checked in, and while I did my final clothes wash, I packed the bike, so that I could enjoy a relaxing evening in Queenstown.

Here is a view of the TSS Earnslaw an old steamer which takes passengers to the Walker Peak High Country Farm on the other side of the lake. 

 It was a nice evening as I walked around Queenstown, I felt a slight sense of sadness that my cycling was over for the time being. I had become a regular tourist just like everyone else around me. 

Having cycled through some of the most wonderful scenic countryside, I have to say that this area from Wanaka to Queenstown, to me is the most beautiful.

Its no surprise that it is popular. Especially the almost legendary Fergburger bar. 

As I headed back to my hotel for my final night, I found myself thinking about what had happened to me over the past 10 days. 

Day 8 - Makarora to Wanaka 60kms

 

It was a beautiful morning and I went down to wave goodbye to my new Welsh friends. They would have the fun of descending the Haast Pass in the sunshine.

Then for me the view would be of lake Wanaka initially.

And then lake Hawea. Every corner brought a postcard photo opportunity. 

This sign shows my route that day. But although I cycled into Wanaka, my bed for the night was a B&B a few kilometres back in Albert Town.

Lake Hawea, heading towards Albert Town.

Wanaka.

Day 7 - Haast to Makarora 78.5kms

I was woken by thunder, lightening and very heavy rain. It was 4am. I thought of the rugged bike packing tourers and knew they would not care about the rain, they would just get on with it. I on the other hand, turned over and went back to sleep. I checked out as late as I could and took a late breakfast in a nearby cafe. Then I set off on the bike.

The trip from Haast to Makarora involves a fair bit of climbing. Haast Pass is probably the steepest section of road over this whole trip, but the road up to the pass is a quite pleasant steady climb. Weirdly enough, there is a risk of running out of water on the road. There are no shops along on the way. It is weird as this water shortage was going on at the same time as the rain pelted down onto me, the river raged to my left and the cliff face on my right had continual waterfalls. 

 The bad weather gradually lifted.

Gradually the beautiful scenery came into view.

And at pretty much the top of the pass coincided with the disappearance of the last of the clouds.

With less than an hour to go to Makarora, I could see from this sign that my journey's end was in sight.

I arrived in Makarora at about 2pm after 4 hours of cycling across part of the Southern Alps. For the final fifteen minutes of the cycle I was talking to a woman who looked about my age, but was only three days from the end of the Tour Aotearoa. I stopped for the day and she stopped for a coffee.

But before I even took off my cycling helmet, I found myself talking to a Welsh couple, Tony and Mair from Merthyr Tydfil. They were travelling around South Island on Brompton bikes. Tony was a true gentleman and to prove it he carried all the luggage. 30kgs of it. Mair carried a water bottle. No wonder she smiled and laughed all the time. They had done a lot of cycling with only 6 gears on their bikes and didn't seem at all phased by the prospect of the journey ahead of them. They were cycling the reverse of my trip and aimed to reach Christchurch in just over a week.

After talking for three hours, I checked into my sleeping quarters, washed my clothes and put them out to dry. The views were wonderful and I was looking forward to clear weather all the way to Queenstown.

Day 6 - Fox Glacier to Haast 122kms

 When you wake up and see this from your bedroom window, you know you did some good in a previous life.

I got up early, showered and packed and headed out to get some breakfast. I decided to have breakfast in the restaurant where 12 hours earlier I had dined on pizza. 

There were two intrepid Tour Aotearoa bikes parked outside the restaurant and I took a moment to examine one of the bikes. It had very fat wheels, and no gears whatsoever. It also had some sort of bag strapped to every steel tube on the frame, forks, seat post and handlebars. I got talking to the owner, who was from Alaska and told me, me with my 20 gears and only 8kgs of luggage, the same me that struggled up the hills the day previously, he said that gears really weren't that important, and as for weight, well it wasn't all about the weight. For some reason the owner of the restaurant thought we were all together, so put our meals on the same table. I felt like a fraud. With my pristine little carbon frame and road wheels, my palomino pony, trying to muck in with these tough cowboy types who have been riding the ranges on their trusty stallions and seen and done things that would cause me and my pony to cover our eyes and ears. 

So after an awkward moment or two, when I fully expected one of said cowboys to carry my food to another table. We all sat down. I quickly realised that it would not do for me to try trading stories with these guys. Whatever I thought I'd done, ever, was insignificant compared to what these guys do each day. So I spent breakfast listening to their tales; the distances, the terrain, the weather, the sleep or lack-of.  During this time, several other members of this rugged clan turned up, paid their respects, sniggered at my bike and galloped off.  

They were of course perfectly pleasant and welcoming and not at all condescending (to my face). I was to see these people several more times over the next few days. In fact I spend about an hour having lunch with two of them in a salmon farm restaurant at the half-way point of the day.

The ride to Haast is very pleasant. It seems to be mostly downhill until you reach the sea. Then it is flat.

 

But there is a bump in the road after that, at a place called Knights Point. The road up to that is steep.

Knights point is the one place where the sandflies got me. I couldn't find my magic potion and so I didn't stop long. Or didn't want to stop long. But some couple of retirees, who probably saw themselves in me, wanted to chat about my trip. I did my best to make it sound impressive and hoped they would not meet any real bike travellers. Then I headed off.

The road into Haast is long and straight and flat. The temperate rainforest pretty much comes down to the road and the road is next to the ocean. You've cycled nearly 120kms, but still can appreciate the beauty of the surroundings. 

I checked in to the motel in Haast and found I was next door to the couple I met at Knights Point. They introduced me to their relatives, my neighbours on my other side, and they all treated me like a rockstar. Then I went for dinner and a pint at the Hard Antler. There I found the real rock stars, telling more tales of extreme adventures by bike. 

Their general view was that there would be heavy rain in the morning, starting at 7am and finishing by about noon. My view was to have a lie-in, late breakfast and hope the weather had passed through earlier than anticipated. Their view was to start cycling at 4am. I guess that is why they are cycling 3,000kms and I'm doing about a quarter of that. We all said goodnight and I wished them well with the night time cycling.

Day 5 - Hari Hari to Fox Glacier 88kms

I left my little piece of the middle ages at quite an early hour. It was light, I was awake, I'd finished cleaning up, and it wasn't raining. I cycled to the general store I'd used the previous day and got myself a coffee. While I drank the coffee I caught up on world events via the in-store WiFi service. I hadn't missed much. I got back on my bike and headed off towards Fox Glacier. 

I knew that Fox Glacier was one of the places where I'd booked a backpackers style residence. Maybe a private room, but shared facilities. I made up my mind that I'd try to get an upgrade when I reached the place. There was nothing online, but maybe a cancellation had freed up one of those precious rooms with a nice en-suite.

I reached Franz Josef for an early lunch at a very civilised pace, then headed on for the Fox!

There is a fair bit of climbing between Franz Josef and Fox Glacier, but this is day 5 and at some point you get fit enough or determined enough to push through whatever comes along. You aren't going to cycle back, that it probably further to ride, and a bit of an admission of defeat, plus you can just cycle slower if you find it tough.

That was the mentality you acquire at some point, and today was my moment.

I pulled into Fox Glacier at about 3pm, checking-in time. I went to the hotel that the backpackers was attached to, and prepared to plead. I'd staying in a wilderness retreat for goodness sake, I must deserve something better tonight. I was in luck, they had one room which they normally never let out as it was above the kitchen and noisy, and maybe smelly (I thought). It was about the same price as the backpackers, which was cheaper than my bit of wilderness the previous night. So I was 'made up' with it. 

It turned out that the kitchen staff seemed to party until quite late after they finished serving food, but I didn't care.

I dined out on pizza and a glass of red wine. Tomorrow would be a long day, my longest, so I'd need an early start.

Day 4 - Hokitika to Hari Hari 70kms.

It had rained all night, and the morning looked dark. I didn't want to cycle in the rain without some lights. This West coast road was the only one for anyone travelling any distance, so I could expect quite a bit of traffic.

Fortunately Hokitika has a pretty good cycle shop (they say the only one for 500 kms), and I bought a front and back light to make sure that everyone could see me from a distance. I stopped by the Clock Tower Cafe for breakfast and to read the instructions for the lights (yes I know, how difficult can it be?).  When I finished breakfast, I headed outside to fit the lights and got chatting to another cyclist while I was doing so. He sounded American and had a proper touring bike, with panniers and all kinds of ponchos and see through map pouches (yes a map would be useful).  We exchanged stories, and it wasn't long before he asked whether I'd met any of the people doing the 'Tour Aotearoa'. I hadn't heard of it, but from what this guy was saying, this was a serious expedition and our little efforts were puny in comparison.

Anyway, with my lights flashing I set off South for Hari Hari. This was only about 70kms away, and fairly flat cycling, but I wanted to break up this West coast a fair bit so that I could recover properly before the next day. I didn't need to be a hero, and wanted to enjoy myself.

I was making reasonable time, but something was preying on my mind about my accommodation in Hari Hari. It was called the 'Wildside Lodge' and also called a Wilderness Retreat. I had booked it because it was the only place in town with any space, and it was not even in the town. It cost $120 NZD, so it was with a little surprise that I noted that at that price it did not come with electricity! So far on my trip, I was enjoying myself. I had quite short days cycling and then time in my accommodation to wash my clothes, make a meal or go out for a meal. I could recharge my phone, my bike computer and now my lights and I could get WiFi in even the most remote places, many of which didn't offer a phone signal. This 'retreat' was going to challenge me in a new way. Thats what I was worried about.

But I got on with cycling and it wasn't long before I caught up with some of these tough expedition cyclists who were well on their way to completing the Tour Aotearoa. They were on mountain bikes and had all kinds of bags attached. I was on a road bike, with a minimum of baggage. So I didn't need to be fast to catch them up. I was feeling a bit fed up with the rain and looking forward to getting out of it. But these people were almost oblivious to it. They noticed it of course, but it seemed to have zero impact upon their spirits or speed. I will write elsewhere about the inspiration I took from my time with these rugged travellers, this is more a tale of my journey.

Before long I pealed away from the tourers as I reached my home for the night. My host lived in a house with full electricity and probably plenty of other mod-cons, and she guided me through puddles and past farm outhouses to some sort of converted shed in the middle of a field. This was home sweet home for a while. To be fair, it looked lovely, even in the pouring rain. It had been lovingly built and cared for. In the summer it would be a lovely retreat, especially for a couple. But in the rain, in the half-light, on my own, travelling by bike; I confess my spirits dipped a little.

I had a guided tour and shown how to light a gas lamp, where the candles were and where the matches were. Finally I was shown the wood stove/water boiler, and given a lesson in how to use it. Then the lady who showed me around, lit it with a match, and said that the water would be warm enough for a shower in about 2 hours. Two hours! That is a fair while to wait when you are cold and wet and hungry. I wanted to ask why she didn't maybe do that match lighting thing a couple of hours ago and then re-enact it for my benefit after I arrived. But I kept quiet, just in case I was evicted.

I did pile every last twig into that stove in an effort to make 2 hours into 15 minutes. But didn't really achieve my goal. It was going to get dark soon, so I quickly cycled the 2kms into Hari Hari proper, went to the only store there and bought a tin of soup, a pot noodle, a bar of chocolate and a bottle of wine. It cost me about $70 NZD, which would be a weekly shop elsewhere. 

 I cooked on the gas stove and sat outside eating and drinking until I judged the boiler had done it's job. Then I took a lukewarm shower, the warmest part of which was vigorously drying myself afterwards. I was pretty much ready for bed and thought I'd light the gas lamp so that I could read one of the many books on massage and spiritual healing. But alas the gas lamp didn't work, and I didn't have the will to make a fuss about it. So I lit a candle and didn't read.

 

Day 3 - Bealey to Hokitika 110kms

 My plan today was to start early and do a bit of climbing before breakfast. The Bealey Hotel wouldn't open early, so my best bet was to get to Arthur's Pass and get breakfast. 

 So that is what I did. It was dark when I got up and retrieved my bike from the hotel garage. But I didn't want to start in the dark as my rear light was not working. It turned out to be my only gear failure on the whole trip. I threw it away as soon as I realised that it wasn't the batteries.

After a 12kms climb up to Arthur's Pass, which took about an hour. I got breakfast and then headed up to the top of the pass. 

It was getting cold now, and starting to rain, and I was facing a long downhill ride. So decided to put all my gear on and head off. Making good time to Kumara Junction, I stopped for an ice cream and a chat to two locals about the referendum on the New Zealand flag, and carried on.

Kumara junction is one of what must be a very few places where the town roundabout is shared with a railway line. I was now well and truly in the Westland district of New Zealand. The skies were threatening rain, and it was a threat they carried out. By the time I reached tonight's accommodation in Hokitika I was ready for some shelter. 

Day 2 - Springfield to Bealey 72.4kms

When I started this journey I was glad that I'd broken the trip between Christchurch and Bealey into two. The distances don't look too long, but there was a fair bit of climbing, and as I was to discover, a headwind for most of the day. On the plus side, the roads were quiet and the weather was dry. 

I left my Springfield Motel in beautiful sunshine and headed West - for the hills. My flat road very quickly began to steepen and the hills would not go away. They pretty much lasted all day.

 Things eased a little as I cycled across a saddle to Castle Hill.

Castle Hill was a rocky outcrop on a hill, and looked something like a ruined castle. 

From the isolation of cycling alone on deserted roads, I suddenly found myself in an area full of tourists, all heading out to walk around the castle on the hill.

Continuing on, I finally arrived at the Bealey Hotel at about 3pm. The hotel was really a pub, but there were cabins next to it, which had private rooms and shared kitchen and bathrooms. There was also a washer and drier. So I checked-in, did my laundry and then headed to the pub for something to eat. The views were stunning as you can see, looking across the Bealey river.

Once I got to the hotel and ordered my meal, I noticed that someone had taken some brambles and sculpted them into some 'Moa' - which are some sort of ancient birds which roamed the area.

They looked slightly menacing, but were nothing compared to the much smaller menace. The sandflies. I had thought that the West Coast would have sandflies, and had bought the best anti sandfly treatment I could find at Christchurch Airport. But I did not expect to need it so soon into my trip.

 It smelt lovely, with tea tree oil, lavender and something else which presumably sand flies hated. Whatever it was, the potion worked a treat, and I was not bothered by those nasty menaces for the whole trip.

End of the day, and nice black beer and a glass of black sambucca. 

Tomorrow would be a long day, so an early night was in order. Plus I was still not really making many friends.

Day 1 - Christchurch Airport to Springfield 69.4kms.

The Air New Zealand flight landed at Christchurch at 1:30pm on the Friday. I had already emailed the airport beforehand, to ask how to dispose of my bike box. Their response was an indication of the welcome cyclists are given in New Zealand, and contrasts markedly with the New South Wales state government that takes a most unfriendly view of bikes and their riders. They told me to leave the box next to the 'bike assemble area'. So they had planned for people such as me to arrive and need to build up their bike and cycle off. It was so easy, even with one arm. Several people stopped to photograph me and the assembly area as they wanted to show people in their home country how it should be done. Unfortunately I had a smart phone SD card failure at that point and lost my own photo of the scene.

My route out of Christchurch was tricky. I had printed the 'turn by turn' route from Google Maps, and that would have done fine, but it was difficult to follow that route and to cycle. So I went off route and headed towards Christchurch, which was my first mistake. 

My second mistake was to try taking the main trunk road West from Christchurch (the 73). That was full of heavy traffic. Eventually, after about 40 minutes of very defensive cycling the roads became quieter. I was on the wrong road. I should have been on the 'Old West Coast' road, but that was somehow North of me. So I chose to take a right turn in the hope that it would take me to that road. Well it did eventually, but only after about 20kms of cycling on a gravel road. It felt like some scene from a Mad Max movie. When cars came along (and their occupants gave me a long hard stare) I needed a scarf to stop myself choking on the dust. I was lucky not to get a puncture, and I was beginning to wonder about my decision to leave the map at home.

 Eventually, by a place called Sheffield, I joined the Old West Coast road. But by then the sun was falling rapidly, and I wanted to try to catch up with my itinerary. So after a quick photo, I pressed on.

I arrived at my day 1 destination of Springfield after another half an hour, and was very clear as to my priorities after I checked in.

 I quickly showered twice, once with my cycling clothes on, and after hanging my cycling clothes outside to dry, I headed for the only pub in town for a meal and a pint. Day 1 a bit wayward on the route finding, but mission accomplished. Time to sit back and look at the doughnut! 

 Of course the day didn't end there. It ended in my bedroom with me trying to manoeuvre my wet cycling clothing around an oil filled radiator, so that all would be dry by morning. Long night, but it worked.

Christchurch to Queenstown - Credit card Bicycle Touring in New Zealand

765kms of cycling up and down 5,223m of hills in 9 days.

Bruce Bay, Westland, New Zealand

It is fitting that this is the first entry in this blog, as it was the trip that transformed my approach to cycling.

Originally planned at New Zealand Part 2 - South Island, after a successful cycle trip from Rotorua to Christchurch in 2015. The dates and numbers were confirmed in October 2015, but one by one people pulled out, until by mid-February 2016 the organiser called it off as the numbers (5) were not enough to carry the cost of hiring a support vehicle, trailer and driver. 

Had it been called off in January I would have heaved a sigh of relief and got on with other things. It was too hot in Sydney during the day to train and I had been travelling for a month around Christmas, so I was well below my peak fitness and weight.

However, by mid-February I had been in the UK and training in the cold, and had also spent 3 days in Southern Spain training in the warmth. I was getting fit, and had already paid for the flights. But more than that I was motivated to try something that two UK friends had been doing, "Credit Card Cycle Touring". You carry all you need, but you don't camp and don't cook. So you can travel light.  You eat out and you stay in hotels, motels, B&Bs and backpackers.  These two friends Chris and Andy, had cycled from Land's End to John 'O' Groats in the UK over 7 days, and had more recently cycled the spine of the Pyrenees from the Atlantic to the Med. I had been talking to them and wanted to try it out.

So when the call came to say that the group trip was over, I decided that I would do the solo trip, unassisted. My wife said she couldn't see how I could do it all alone. Wouldn't I get lonely? I answered that there are plenty of people in New Zealand and I was sure I could meet someone to talk to. 

Preparation

My first job was to take a road cycling bike trip, where you carry a couple of water bottles, a few tools and a spare tube in your saddle bag, and some cereal bars in your jersey pockets, and transform that into something which was sustainable for 9 days. I needed clothing for different weather conditions and as well as something to wear whilst cycling, I needed something for the evenings.

I'm afraid to say that I did splash out a bit on clothing and on the bags to hold this extra gear. Here is what I took (as well as the bike!):

Gear for when not cycling

Personal Items

Equipment for the bike

The bags to carry it all.

Cycling gear

I did get a bit obsessive about the weight and the kitchen scales did not know what hit them. An example was that my UK friends suggested that I took SPD pedals and then mountain biking shoes which would be OK for wearing when not riding. But when I weighed the shoes and the cleats the weight was 100g higher than SPD SL pedals, road cycling shoes and flip-flops (thongs in Australia).

I was actually pleased with this justification for the second pair of footwear, as it is nice to have something else on your feet.

My one extravagence was a RAB microlight down jacket. March is one of those months where temperatures can vary a fair bit through the day in New Zealand. It is Autumn (Fall), and South Island is a long way South of Sydney, and I would be in the mountains for some of the time. It was always nice to put on the jacket, but there were only a few nights when it was needed. My best item in terms of utility and value for money was a Merino top from the Decathlon sporting supermarket in Sheffield, UK. That cost £23 ($45 AUD) and was a great item to wear for the evening, and in bed and if it got really cold, under my cycling jersey. 

All told my bike weighed 8kgs, my packed gear weighed the same and I weighed about 72kgs. So less than 90kgs in total. I have friends who struggle to get their own body down to that weight, so figured that it wasn't going to be too hard to carry myself and my gear around New Zealand.

The Route

Starting from Christchurch, the route headed West on the flat terrain of the Canterbury plains and then climbed up the Southern Alps for the first crossing at Arthur's Pass. Then descending to the West Coast town of Hokitika. It then heads South until Haast. Then East up the Haast Pass, crossing the Southern Alps again, before heading across to Wanaka. Finally traversing the Crown Ranges to reach Queenstown.

 

Logistics and a last minute injury

The original organiser of our trip had planned out each day and organised accommodation for all of us. So my first thought was to just follow his planning. But then I looked at the first couple of days and saw that I would have half a day in Christchurch after arriving, following by about 135kms the following day to reach Bealey, just below Arthur's Pass. There was also a day off at Fox Glacier, but long days either side. I didn't need to push myself that hard, and wouldn't have a road-train to drag me along. So decided to make the route easier for an old man like me. Now I had a new itinerary, I would need to change my accommodation bookings. But that proved much more difficult than expected. It was not school holidays, nor was it high season for tourism. So I wondered why this was so. I ended up making several compromises which I was not looking forward to, but proved to be fun.

A few days out from my start, I had a tussle with a stand up paddleboard, it won and I tore my left bicep tendon. I did not know that at at the time. I wasn't about to go to the doctor to find out. Instead I rested for a day or two, then tried cycling. I could manage, so long as I didn't get out of the saddle and use my arms too much. That was good enough for me.

My trip started with a flight into Christchurch from Sydney on Friday March 4th 2016, and ended with a flight out of Queenstown on Sunday March 13th 2016. In between I had to travel with all my gear between those two places.

Nice shiny 12-30 cassette.

I'd fitted a 12-30 cassette on my bike as I was carrying a greater load and was going to do some climbing, and asked the local bike shop (Bike Addiction) to check the bike over for any obvious problems. They gave me a cardboard bike box and I packed my bike and all the gear into the box ready for take-off the next day.

Bike caged up ready for the flight.

Apart from needing help to lift the bike box, as my left arm was pretty useless. The job of getting the bike in the box to the airport was fairly easy. I was still a bit jet lagged from my UK trip, so leaving home at 4:30am was quite easy.