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I’m writing this from Wellington. In the North Island! Cycling is now over, I’ve rented a car, and will head over Auckland’s way in 7 days and go diving up there in the Poor Knights. I’m kinda excited, but not really. Mostly, I’m quite depressed not to be cycling anymore. But I figured, it had to end, and even if I cycled all the way into Auckland this week (I’d have to take buses too), I’d still be upset to have to stop. The problem isn’t when to stop, but having to stop at all! I am only finding solace in deciding it’s only a temporary pause… Anyway latest news!

Day 48 – dec 4 – Pukerangi to Ranfurly – 84.52km

That day was the beginning of a very exciting journey: the Otago Rail Trail. In the late 1880s, in the middle of the NZ gold rush, the government decided to build a rail line, that was to go from Dunedin, on the east coast, all the way to Wanaka. The construction took over 20 years, and the line never made it beyond Cromwell. When the goldrush subsided, the train line kept being used to transport agricultural goods, but at one point the government lifted restrictions that had limited how far things could be transported by trucks. This decision was basically a death warrant for most of New Zealand’s rail lines, and even more so for the Otago one, as part of it was going to get flooded with the construction of a dam in Cromwell in the 1980s. DoC saw the potential though, and bought the disused rail line in the 1990s. The train kept running from Dunedin to Middlemarch as a tourist line, and the rest of the tracks got dismantled and adapted for walkers, cyclists and horseriders. 150km of flat, traffic-free riding: heaven!! I had been looking forward to the rail trail for weeks.

In the morning I headed over to the train station in Dunedin. There’s something about trains – they’re just really exciting, and take me back to a child-like status. As soon as the train departed (well, after a few slices of Nutella bread – late breakfast), I headed for the back car, where you can step outside to a little platform and get the best views. I was so excited, you could actually hear me chuckling away “hee hee hee”, as I’d stick my head out of the window, or watch a tunnel disappear in the distance. The line goes through the Taieri Gorge: it’s stunning, and easy to see why it took so long to build.

Unfortunately the train wouldn’t go as far as Middlemarch, the start of the Otago Rail Trail, that day. I’d have to cycle some hills – damn! It was actually not that easy at all, especially with a strong wind blowing me sideways. I was glad to reach flat tracks : ) A clever thing DoC did, to raise funds for the rail trail without restricting access, is a passport. Most of what you pay for it goes to maintaining the trail, and every old train station you pass has a little red “self-inking stamp” box, so you can testify that you’ve reached said station. This amused me to no end, and on each train station, I was excitedly looking around for the red box, and chuckle away with my slightly psychopathic “hee hee hee” as I would self-stamp my passport.

I had figured I’d do decent averages on the rail trail, with it being entirely flat and all, but the gravel, the rain that had me hiding in a cafe for 20 min, and the side winds meant that I rode until fairly late in the day to reach my first stop, Ranfurly. That said, I have found that in the rail trail, riding between 5pm and 7pm is especially pleasurable: the winds die down, and with the blue skies and sun so low, the scenery is incredible. It’s not like you can really take a wrong turn anyway ; )

During the last few days, as I picked up various stuff, I found myself surprised at how exhausted my left hand felt, like when you’re so tired you can’t even grip properly – frozen divers will know what I mean ; ) I hadn’t really thought about it though. In Ranfurly, however, it suddenly hit me: I was loosing strength and control in my left hand. I couldn’t keep the last two fingers taught straight with any strength, couldn’t grip properly, and couldn’t control the sideways movement of the last two fingers. So much for having been very excited about my body coping so well! In one sense, I figured it ought to be because of all the riding, but at the same time, I wondered, why now? I’ve been at it for 7 weeks without trouble. And why the left hand only? Cycling is pretty symmetrical. I figured I’d leave it a few days and pop into a doctor’s office if it got worse.

Day 49 – dec 5 – Ranfurly to Ophir – 59.73km

The day started off with a strong headwind, and a slight uphill (the rail trail is basically one very slow uphill and then one very slow downhill), but soon enough I was heading downhill again, and with a sideways wind which made life a lot easier. I rode through the most stunning part of the trail: the Poolburn gorge. It has a huge viaduct, and two tunnels. Now, I have bike lights, but they’re in the worse possible positions: the front one is hidden behind the handlebar bag, and the back one hidden in front of my day bag – I swore to myself I’d never ride at night on this tour ; ) but I thought, they’re only tiny tunnels, I’ll be fine. Well, as it turns out, it gets pretty dark, in the middle of a 200m-long tunnel. And you know what? I’m not just scared of spiders… I’m kinda scared of the dark too. I mean, all the shadows and all?? Spooooookey. I therefore managed to scare myself to bits in those tunnels, and was glad it was just two of them! I figure, the extent of my irrational fears only shows the strength of my otherwise rational brain, right? Something’s always gotta give ; ) (yeah right!) Again, I ended up riding quite late into the day to do a relatively small distance, but it was bliss.

Day 50 – dec 6 – Ophir to Cromwell – 74.49km

Argh. Suckiest day number 2. Ok, so in the morning, I did the rest of the rail trail quite easily. There are no particular features on that part of the track, but it’s still amazing riding – I’d very much recommend doing the whole trail over just riding the best bits (Poolburn gorge). I got to Alexandra at 120pm, and found out about a bus from Cromwell to Omarama leaving at 350pm. I had planned on taking a bus to do that part because it would spare me Lindis Pass, which rising at 1000m, is no easy climb. Given that I only had a few days of riding left, I figured I’d stick to the easier bits! 2h30 to ride the approximate 30km from Alexandra to Cromwell should be plenty, especially since I was told it was all downhill.

Well, to start off, it’s not all downhill at all. There’s a big hill right as you leave the rail trail in Clyde, and it ondulates from there onwards to Cromwell. It was also one of those very sunny, blue sky days – I was getting tired fast. Me don’t like heat. If there’s one thing I hate more than being too cold, it’s being too hot! Still, should be plenty of time. I saw a couple of tourers going the other way – probably headed for the trail, and doing it in the right direction with the dominant winds, not like I did! I don’t know if there’s a cycle touring etiquette or what, but usually, if you’re overtaking on the same side, you can stop for a chat, but if you’re crossing in opposite directions, you just wave or say hi. Simon, a tourer from Slovenia, however decided it would be a good idea to cross the road and stop right in front of me – forcing me into socialising. How rude! He truly looked the part, all sorts of logos all over him, and a fancy bike computer with altitude on it (no, I’m not jealous… grrr). He was on a tour round the world, starting in New Zealand. Wow, I ask, you’re cycling round the world, in one go? He explained: he’s touring round the world, over the next 15 years. Like, a country per year. What?? What the hell is that, you’re basically spending holidays doing cycle touring, picking different countries every time, as most people do, and calling it a round-the-world tour? Geez, he even got sponsors for it. I am therefore hereby declaring: I am cycle touring round the world, starting in New Zealand! YAY! Amazing innit.

Anyway, after a bit of chatting, I kinda had a bus to catch, so I said I’d head on. He said we should take a photo. What? To celebrate having been forced under duress to socialise for 5 minutes? Weeeeird. He seemed like a trophy sort of guy – been there, got that far in one day, climbed this, met so and so… And of course, he wanted the bikes looking this way or that way, and had no tripod, and there was traffic going by… it was all a bit hard work, although I must confess it’ll be nice to get a photo of me on my bike: I’m not patient enough to do any myself! Anyway, I finally managed to get on with getting to Cromwell, but by then I was getting a bit late. I charged on, went downhill, thought I was a bit fast, checked my bike computer and… HORROR! It was gone!! I cycled back to where we’d stopped, trying to see it on the side of the road. I put the bike aside at the top of the hill to continue searching again on foot. I started to think that maybe, Simon was the weird cleptomaniac sort that collected bike computers of tourers he meets. He’d certainly not take it for value – it’s pretty cheap, especially compared to his. Eventually though, I found my poor little computer lying on the side of the road, and felt a bit guilty for having thought Simon could have taken it – oh well! By that point, though, I was getting seriously late. Only 30 min to catch the bus, and I didn’t know how far along I was but thought I probably had another 10-15km left. I decided to do my best though, and keep charging on whatever happens.

Well, hehe. Whatever happens. What next happened, is that some Unidentified Flying Insect got trapped in my helmet, above my left eye. I tried to flip it out, but I was going downhill fast and couldn’t stay with only one hand on the bar for long. The UFI panicked, and stung! Man, that hurt!! I had to stop to wait for the pain to subside a bit (I’m such a survivor, tss). And I was still late. I wondered if riding as hard as I can, sending my blood racing through my body at unprecedented speeds, was the best thing to do when you’ve got poison from an insect bite trying to spread around your vital organs. However, I figured NZ wasn’t famous for its deadly wasp, or any other flying monsters for that matter, so I decided to keep charging. The riding was pretty horrible – it was really hot, and I wasn’t even taking time to drink, just pedalling like mental, up or down, doesn’t matter, pedal pedal… I pulled into Cromwell at 352pm, and rode around the place to where I knew the bus stop was (I’d stopped in Cromwell for lunch on my way to Queenstown on suckiest day number 1), but there was no sign of the bus. I waited long enough, but I guess I missed it. All that effort! I’d done pretty well too, I was almost on time! I booked myself into a backpackers for the night, and got a ticket for the first bus to Omarama in the morning. I was absolutely exhausted from having ridden so hard, despite not going especially far – it goes to show how important it is to go at your own pace. (I had flashbacks of back when I was trying to follow Lucia and Roland, and was having thoughts of throwing bricks at them to stop them riding into the distance) (What?? It would have worked!)

Day 51 – dec 7 – Omarama to Lake Pukaki – 79.24km

In the morning, I awoke to a rather unpleasant surprise: my left eye was swelling up. The sting had hurt all evening the day before, but by then was no longer hurting – just swelling. With my left hand being pretty bad by then – all fingers were loosing strength – my body had seen better days. On the plus side, it’s not like I care that my left eye is forced shut by swelling, right? I should consider myself lucky the UFI got trapped on the practically blind side of me. By the way, when I say UFI, I don’t mean some tiny sandfly or mosquito, as some have suggested, ok? We’re talking about proper monsters here, not 2mm-long wussies. It was at least a bee!

At least, I was feeling ok, even if I wasn’t looking it. I took a detour to some amazing clay cliffs in Omarama, then headed over to Twizel, then Lake Pukaki. I had decided I’d camp wild that night – my first! Not an actual campsite, and not even a basic DoC campsite either – I just stopped at a nice spot and pitched my tent : ) Ok, it was actually a picnic area, so it had tables – but no loos or anything so I think it still counts as pretty wild. The lake has views of Mt Cook in the distance, so as is usual when you’re going somewhere for a view, it was cloudy all over and I didn’t see Mt Cook the whole time.

Day 52 – dec 8 – Lake Pukaki to Lake Tekapo – 37.78km

That morning, my eye looked even worse. Completely swollen up, and it made funny wrinkles on my eye lid. Oh well, not like I need it. (no I’m not angry with my left eye, I mean I’m 28, I’m totally over that) (…) I had a rainy headwind the whole way to Lake Tekapo, and achieved my slowest average speed yet: 13.5 km/h… Once I got there, I was unfortunate enough to pick about the worse backpackers I’ve stayed at: “Lakeside Lodge Backpackers”. This rapidly-built, crammed, noisy, tiny-dorms, thin-mattresses-on-squeaking-metal-beds, shower-burning-then-freezing-then-burning joke of a hostel was obviously put together to cash in on backpacker buses, like the Magic Bus. A couple of hours after I’d settled, one pulled into the hostel: I could only watch in horror as dozens of young excitable “backpackers” strolled in – most with suitcases, ironically! They stayed up and made a hell of a lot of noise until well after midnight – not cool. On top of that, the astronomy night of star gazing on top of Mt John I had been looking forward to for weeks got cancelled because of the weather. I didn’t have enough time left to afford taking a rest day and trying it the next night. Nevermind… At least my eye was swelling down, although my spastic left hand (as I was calling it by then) was pretty useless at grabbing anything.

Day 53 – dec 49- Lake Tekapo to Geraldine – 93.91km

I couldn’t get out of that horrible hostel fast enough – I was so glad to be back on the road! The scenery was the same as it had been the last few days: barren, brown, tussock covered hills, with colourful lupins growing on the side of the road. At one point, I felt a bit “bouncy” on my bike: looked down, and my back tire looked a little flat. Only a little though – in denial of a puncture, I re-inflated it and continued on (after I’d worked out how to adjust my pump so it works for my tires – took longer than you’d think it should!). I rolled down Burke’s pass, checking on my tire, but soon enough my bike was wobbling from side to side, and re-inflating wasn’t going to cut it anymore. My first puncture : ( I had actually thought I might manage to ride for 8 weeks without one! I remembered all the instructions I’d learnt from my local bike shop and from Antony, and step by step, managed to replace the inner tube, get the tire back on the wheel (not easy when you’re not strong, and even harder with a spastic hand!), and get the wheel back on the bike. I was beaming – incredibly proud of my unpractical self having managed this feat of hands-on work. I even remembered to make sure whatever popped the tube in the first place was no longer there – I found the hole in the tire and it was empty.

I rode another 30km on – it was quite a hilly, tiring day. And then, pop! The back tire went again, and this time with a bang – it was deflating fast and there was no denying anything. Crap! I double checked: the hole was in the same place. The tire was still empty of anything hole-popping though, and I thought, would it have held 30km if there had been something left there? Surely it would have popped soon after getting back on the bike. I decided to patch the initial inner tube, and ride on that. It held until I reached Geraldine, exhausted from all the small but devilishly steep hills, the punctures, the lack of rest… it was good to find a lovely hostel, which used to be a maternity ward – nice wide corridors, lots of space, few people, and cycle-friendly owners – just what I needed!

Day 54 – dec 10 – Geraldine to Rakaia Gorge – 85.97km

I was feeling my lack of rest days – as soon as I headed out, everything hurt. My back hurt, my ass hurt, the soles of my feet hurt, and my thighs and calves hurt. To top it off, the scenery was boring farmland for miles – great. I stopped regularly and had lots of snacks, but still felt exhausted. At Mt Somers, I found a sign leading to my salvation: “<- tavern”. YES! A steak sandwich and a fresh, fizzy, glass-bottle coke later, I felt much better on my bike. The scenery improved a notch too, with hills in the background – but soon enough the feeling of exhaustion came back, despite the road being practically flat: I was burning out… I only had one more day to get back to Christchurch though – any rest day I’d take now would be one less day to spend visiting the north island, and those were counted. I was very glad to reach the steep descent into the beautiful Rakaia gorge – worth taking the scenic road from Geraldine to Christchurch for. I had expected a basic DoC campsite with only toilets, but instead found an angler’s campsite with flushing toilets, and hot showers – luxury!

Day 55 – dec 11 – Rakaia Gorge to Christchurch – 88.01km

I knew what the start of the day held for me – I’d had a long descent into Rakaia gorge, and I was going to have to get out of it! It’s one of those depressing uphill ride, where you don’t have the reward of a downhill at the end of it – ripoff! I soldiered on quite well though – I’d had a good night’s sleep and felt a bit stronger. Soon enough, I was back on the Canterbury plains, and the boring farmland. It wasn’t a particularly interesting ride into Christchurch to say the least, and after Queenstown I’d promised myself I wouldn’t ride into big cities anymore, but I really fancied the idea of closing the loop, of riding back into where I started – even though I didn’t technically ride all the way round as I took a couple of buses. It was quite emotional actually – I had tears in my eyes as I cycled past the park where me and Surly had had our first moments, hehe. I even popped into Grind Bikes, the lovely shop that had sold Surly to me. They were pretty happy I’d gone all that far! Not as happy as I was though : ) In the main square of Christchurch, a German tourer talked to me. He’d had a different approach to using his last days: he’d ridden over Arthur’s Pass and into Christchurch in one day – 16 hours of cycling. He collapsed to sleep on a lawn, until “the automatic sprinklers went on”, ouch! He had all sorts of technical tips for me, and at one point mentioned that he was loosing nerves in the last two fingers of each hand – hey, me too! I guess it is cycling related after all. I must be putting too much weight on my hands, which kills the nerves. I suspect my bike is by now unevenly weighted, making me heavier on the right side, which would be why it’s only on the left hand.

Day 56 – dec 12 – Getting to the North Island

In the morning, I loaded Surly for the last time: we were headed to the train station, for a luxury ride to Picton, followed by a ferry to Wellington. I had tears in my eyes on that early morning ride, and not from joy this time. I was quite upset that my cycle tour was over… On the train ride, I got to see some of the roads I’d ridden before – it made me even more nostalgic. I dragged my feet the whole way, and had no interest in anything. On the ferry ride, instead of going round the boat like I usually like to do, and spending time enjoying the views, I headed to a reclining seat, for a sulk and a nap. I was not very happy at all…

And I’m now in Wellington. A lot of chocolate and a couple of glasses of wine later, I’m not feeling much better. I actually went and looked into whether I could cycle into Auckland – but there was no way I’d manage without buses, and I desperately needed a good rest. Not to mention my spastic hand, which I’d be glad to see return to normal, and the fact that riding to Auckland would mean I wouldn’t get to dive the Poor Knights. The Poor Knights are islands north of Auckland, which are world-reknown for their marine diversity, and were in Cousteau’s top 5 world list – and if Cousteau says so… I figured I owed it to my scuba-fanatic self to at least dive that, if I skipped the barrier reef. Plus, riding into Auckland wouldn’t stop me feeling depressed about having to stop riding – it’d just delay it by a week. So, I got myself a rented car, which I’m picking up tomorrow. The company I am renting from was way cheaper than anyone else I’d called – I’m expecting some seriously old banger. On the plus side, it was so cheap that I could put on full insurance on it, with no excess, so old banger as it may be, I’m washing my hands clean of it ; ) And it actually looks like it’ll be quite big, so my lovely Surly will fit in the back space. I bought myself a great book, “Pedal Power: great bicycle journeys”: it’s written by a kiwi who went riding all over the world, and he interweaves stories from Japan, France, England, etc, with stories of bike rides in New Zealand – rides I’ve done : ) It cheers me up, and hopefully driving away from this big city will as well – I just long for some peace and quiet. I’ve got Christmas to look forward to as well – I can’t wait to go home and see everyone, especially the little ones, and how much they will have grown.

So! Cycle touring is over, and I can now become one of them, what do you call them? Motorists? Argh. The next week will therefore be a classic sort of holiday, driving around, seeing the sights, diving the marine reserves… I actually do love driving around, so once the ipod is plugged in and I get out of here, I’m pretty certain I’ll perk up! The hand is getting a bit of functionality back, so there’s a bonus ; )

It’s been an amazing journey, cycling a total of 2650km around the South Island; and I hope the first of many: there’s something incredibly special about having all your stuff packed on your two wheels, and travelling through a country with food as your only fuel. You get to experience everything – the sights, the sounds, the smells. The slow way.

So, Germany, Italy, Spain, France, Ireland, England, Scotland, Sweden, Alaska, Canada, USA, Japan, and many more… be prepared, me and Surly will visit one day : )

Until then, merry christmas to you all, and a happy new year!

Lis, on far too many wheels

PS: didn’t have time for photos – later maybe… sorry to those who only look at the pictures ; )

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