CYCLING IN NEW ZEALAND

Here is a summary of my bicycle tour on the South Island of New Zealand in February/March 2008, as well as excerpts from my notes covering three days of the tour. I started my ride in Dunedin where I arrived on February 20. I returned to Washington from Christchurch on March 18. From Dunedin, my trip took me south and west along the Catlins Coast and the Southern Scenic Route to Invercargill and Te Anau. From there, I went north to Queenstown, across the Crown Range and Haast Pass to Wanaka, and then along the West Coast up to Greymouth. At Greymouth, I turned east and inland crossing Lewis Pass and visiting Hanmer Springs before heading south again to Christchurch. A three-day excursion across and around Banks Peninsula, the remnant of two massive volcanoes, completed the ride.

I cycled for 21 days covering a total distance of 1,850 km. For two days I cruised Milford Sound and Doubtful Sound, and for three days of solid rain I was holed up in Te Anau. The day with the longest though relatively easy ride covered 146 km; the shortest, but rather hard trip went over 40 km. Three days of riding were partly or mostly in rain. The South Island is hilly and mountainous. So there are many short and long climbs. Total climbing added up to 1.9 times the height of Mount Everest. My steepest climb had a slope of 18%. In the process I lost 5 kg in weight.

On my bicycle I carried two panniers and a waterproof bag with a tent and camping gear, which weighed altogether 25 kg. In the end I did not need to use the tent. Instead, I found a room at each stop usually in a hotel, holiday park, or backpackers hostel.

Highlights of the trip include the visit to Milford Sound with its hundreds of cascades, to the even more spectacular Doubtful Sound, and to 13 km long Fox Glacier. There is the unexpected jewel of a locality, a mining town named Reefton; the sulfuric hot pools at Maruia Springs and Hanmer Springs; the nature walks through rain forest on paths so soft that you feel like walking on a carpet; the little dark-gray bird with an almost white throat, that flits from branch to branch an arm’s length away from me, looking me straight in the eye. There are the early morning rides when a stop along a forest road places you center-stage in a concert of bird song, and envelops you in a cocoon of fragrances. Powerful rivers cross my path, their enormous beds strewn with rounded stones of all sizes, and turquoise waters running over them. There are the immense natural forests with 30 meter-high silver beech trees; and the rugged mountains and the beautiful valleys between them. And of course there are the noisy pubs in the old 19^th century hotels in the smaller towns where many a client is covered with tattoos and wears heavy boots, and where every conversation centers on something fuggin great or fuggin awful. Along the east coast you smell the kelp when getting close to the shore, on the west coast the wind whips up the surf creating a fine mist that veils the foreshore. But the greatest moments come when you yourself feel a bit like a bird, maybe break out into a song yourself, and get a bit light-headed with the joy of being alive.

February 25. Invercargill to Tuatapere. Got up at a quarter to seven after not much sleep. Coughing and non-relaxing thoughts kept me awake; maybe I shouldn’t have enjoyed so much that tasty New Zealand Chardonnay last night. In any event, it’s time to get up. The usual cold shower and I am feeling reasonably fit. The backpackers accommodation offers some powder coffee and I have leftover raisin buns and a small piece of Camembert. So breakfast is skimpy and quick, and with the sun lighting up the clouds in the east, I am on my way at seven forty.

Traffic in Invercargill is still light at this time of the morning; my only worry are the dark clouds southeast which seem to discharge some rain; but I am heading west. The temperature is 15º Celsius; the overcast sky dulls the colors; but the landscape is not interesting anyway. At eleven, I arrive after 38km at Riverton. A narrow bridge crosses the Jacobs River Estuary; there is the straight Main Street with some shops under arcades, a war memorial, and a wooden church with a steeple on the left side of the street. A few boats are moored along the estuary adding a bit of color. A nicely decorated Internet café invites me to stop for a hot chocolate, which tastes great on a cool morning like this.

But then yesterday’s pattern repeats itself. I have hardly left Riverton when the wind picks up. The climbs on the way to Tuatapere - some 50 km hence - are mostly moderate, and where they are a bit steep they are short. So normally this would be a relatively easy ride. However, the wind is back again, even stronger than yesterday, and for km after km it blows head-on. (In the evening news they are talking of gales of up to 100 km an hour.) Riding becomes absolute torture. Moving often at 5 to 6 km an hour, being buffeted by strong gusts, sometimes being blown into the road, at other times barely avoiding a run into the ditch. Leg muscles and knees are starting to ache; even the muscles in the neck and shoulders are hurting. Getting up from the seat is painful, and pulling off the sweat-soaked underwear, which seems to be glued to my skin, feels like pulling off sandpaper. The spectacular waves at Colac Bay and Te Waewae Bay are extraordinary to watch, so is the white foam being blown in the air as the waves crash one after the other onto the beach. But this is no reward for the suffering; nor is the view of the brooding mountains across the bays, which provide a stark contrast to the innumerable white caps on top of the sea. The main thing I seem to be doing is counting the kilometers and hoping that things might get better. Maybe in a year’s time I will remember more the spectacle of the waves along the shore, the cows and sheep huddling close to the stony beaches, or the heaps of bleached driftwood; but the essence of the day was exhaustion and pain.

In Orepuki, a locality that seems close to death with its empty, dusty, wind-blown streets, I stop to drink a cup of tea and a glass of orange juice. The exertion has cut my appetite; I probably wouldn’t be able to eat anything at all. The woman running the place suggests that I check with the driver of the truck who is just delivering some beer, and hitch a ride with him when he continues to Tuatapere. But maybe stupidly, I am not sure whether this wouldn’t admit defeat and I decide to complete the remaining 18 km on the bicycle. I also know that the road will make a sharp turn north some 10 km from here and that I will then have something coming close to a tail wind for the last 8 km. And indeed that is exactly what happened. For the final 8 km the wind blows from 8 to 7 o’clock and I am riding easily.

At 16:00 hours I arrive at Waiau Hotel at Tuatapere, where I had called from Riverton to make reservations. The lady running the place shows me my room, a comfortable impeccable accommodation for NZ$ 40 per night. A Dutch biking couple, a bit younger than I, is also just arriving and looking for an overnight place, but it seems the price is too stiff, and they will try to find a campground.

As I settle into my room I am beginning to relax. I move over to the bar where they serve drought beer. I drink two pints of Export Gold, and think maybe it wasn’t such a bad day after all, maybe I should even be happy to have managed to meet a challenge or something like that. But it wouldn’t be true; it was a struggle and a torture; and I shouldn’t forget it.

Total distance traveled today: 92 km; average speed: 12.7 km/hour; riding time: 7 hours, 15 minutes.

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