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Free Wheelin - January 2001 |
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| Monday 1st
I was very hungover when I got up. I had breakfast, done my laundry and sat in the sun for the rest of the day reading 'Johnny Gingers Last Ride' by Tom Fremantle. Tom retraced his great grandfather?s steps by cycling from the UK to Fremantle in Perth Australia. Fremantle was named after Charles Fremantle, Tom's great grandfather. Tuesday 2nd - Cycled distance 56km I was up early and packed a pannier with some supplies (lunch etc.) I was heading to the beach, 'Split Apple Bay' to be precise. So called due to a rock formation that resembled an apple split in two. The sky was bright blue and dotted with the odd cotton wool cloud floating lethargically high above. It was about 22 degrees with a soft cooling breeze. I had been warned on entering NZ, that the sun, while not necessarily hot, it was dangerous due to the thin 'Ozone' layer. Each day the weatherman/person would tell you the burn time, normally around 12 minutes. I got caught a few times and yes, it burns. Cycling along casually I couldn't help but notice that everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Cars and 4WD's towing boats and caravans seemed to slip passed without making a sound. The beach was mobbed so I decided not to hand around, instead I headed back into Motueka and bought a 'Camelback', a 2ltr hydration backpack. $115 and all it does is hold 2ltr of water, well I knew I would need it for crossing the Nullarbor in Australia. Wednesday 3rd - Cycle distance 49km, destination Nelson The reason I had been spending so much time in the same place, is that I was waiting for a parcel to arrive from the UK. The parcel was supposed to arrive before the new year. However, it hadn't, it was now to be redirected to Beryl Hollis. I was heading to Nelson to visit Beryl. I felt tiered as soon as I started, I was gasping for air, my heart was pumping fast. I stopped several times thinking I would call it a day. No, I kept going, I reached Nelson at 3:30, the parcel hadn't arrived. Beryl invited me to stay until my package arrived which I gladly accepted. She lived in a large house overlooking the 'Tasman Bay'. Sitting out on the veranda, Beryl told me to relax as she handed me a beer. Later in the evening, I sat with Beryl and her grand daughter Sophie, telling stories about my travels so far. Thursday 4th - Cycle distance 69km, destination Quinnies Bush. I awoke at 8am; Beryl was on the veranda. I've made you porridge, she shouted, its on the table. As we sat having breakfast there was a knock at the door, my parcel had arrived. Beryl was a bit disappointed, she said she wanted me to stay and tell more stories. Unfortunately, I couldn?t, I only had another six or so weeks left in NZ and I still had the whole south island to cover. I didn't leave until after 11am, it took me seven hours to reach Quinnies Bush, I was knackered. I don't know what it was but I just can't seem to get myself going. I was supposed to have covered another 30 or so kilometers, I just couldn't go any further. I'm glad I didn't go any further, Quinnies was a great campsite. It was the start of the NZ holiday season and the site was quite busy, mostly with families. The site was large and a bit unkempt. The ground in places was over grown and previous campers seemed to have pitched anywhere and built campfires all over the place. But still there was a good atmosphere. I pitched my tent next to another couple of cyclists. After our quick hello's I was informed that there was a nice cool river to swim in, just behind the trees. I thought that a dip in the river would be a refreshing change to a shower. I grabbed my towel and followed the path. It was a busy wee place, I stood watching for a while before dipping my toes in, it was frookin freezin! I thought I would just stand in the warm sun for a bit longer. Kerry was with her two sons, we started chatting, we were getting on quite well when her oldest son decided he didn't like the attention I was giving his mother and decided to try an drag her away. However, I managed to win him over when I offered to repair a puncture for him. He then left us alone, Kerry and I chatted until quite late. Friday 5th - Cycle distance 57km, destination Owen River. I reluctantly packed my panniers. Kerry came over to say goodbye; I almost changed my mind about moving on. On leaving the campsite I met up with Julz and Fiona, they were Kiwi's from Dunidin. They were cycling around the south island. It didn't take them long to disappear over the horizon. I couldn't understand, the bike felt so heavy, I kept stopping to check the brakes, I was sure that there was something wrong. It took me 3 hours to cycle 25km. It wasn't till later that I realised that I had been climbing the hope saddle, 640 meters over the 25km, a continuous steady and gruelling climb. I reached Owen River at 5:30. My first stop, 'the tavern'. After a couple of ice cold beers, I was ready to pitch my tent. I was planning to stay here for a couple of days but the sand flies were on a feeding frenzy. As quick as I could I pitched the tent and headed back to the bar. While standing at the bar, I was approached by Terry, the local oddball. He offered to let me crash in the house he was working at. Terry, long grey hair with matching beard and front teeth missing, was working on the only house in the near vicinity. The house was owned by a local farmer. I found this out later when Perry came into the bar and Terry very quickly made himself scarce. Talking to Perry, he explained that Terry had given him a price for the work on the house in September. It was to cost $3,700 and take just a few weeks. The cost had now escalated to $23,000 and was still climbing. Perry said that there was not much more to do, but he couldn't afford to finish the job if the costs keep going up. He asked me how long I was planning on hanging around and asked if I wanted a job helping to get the house finished. I said I would look at the place the next day. The plan was to have the house as a backpacker?s place and to rent part of it out to American tourists who were here for the fishing. Saturday 6th - Cycle distance 87km, destination Berlins I went with Kim, 'the owner of the Tavern' to have a look at the house. What a mess! Terry had his mattress in the middle of what would be the lounge; the place was a dump. Perry had said that there wasn't much more to do. I don't think so... There was no doors or windows, the plumbing had been ripped out and the porch was in bits. The only way into the house was via a ladder. I told Kim to give my apologies to Perry and left. It was 12noon when I left Owen River. 25km further on while cycling through the next town ?Murchison?; I met up again with Julz and Fiona. We decided we would cycle together. W cycled for six hours before reaching Berlins. The road to this place was flat, meandering along the banks of the Owen River. The views were spectacular..... Berlins it self was a pub, no houses, no other businesses, just a pub in the middle of nowhere. The campsite was the drying green at the back of the pub, more important - it was free. Dawn, the landlady, was covered in Celtic tattoo?s and looked like a sixties hippy, spoke with passion about travelling and yet had never been outside NZ. She sat behind the bar drinking beer all night. Naturally, I wasn't complaining, I had my share. Sunday 7th - Cycle distance 97km, destination Punakaiki. Leaving Berlins early, we ambled at a steady pace 20-25kph (Zoooomin!) towards Westport where we stocked up on essentials, FOOD! The cycling was good up until then. After leaving Westport, I began to lag seriously behind, the hills were tough going, again I cursed the bike. I told Julz and Fiona to go on ahead, I would catch up, eventually! It wasn't until I was struggling up the last hill that I noticed my back wheel was on, squint!! Why don't I check those things?? I arrived at Punakaiki at 6pm the other pair had already settled in and we sitting eating their tea. As I went about pitching my tent, Chris, from Christchurch shouted me across - she was my next door neighbour. I was offered a nice hot cup of coffee, which I accepted, then two other campers from East Germany joined us, bringing with them a few cans of beer, which really helped settle me in. We sat under the stars for a few hours chatting and drinking beer. There was a full moon, which lit up the sky and outlined the native bush. The stillness of the night was only broken by the gentle sound of the Tasman Sea washing against the shore just a few meters away. Monday 8th - Day off I was up early and walked to the Pancake rocks, about 1km up the road. Unfortunately, the sea was too calm. Otherwise, or so they tell me, the rocks are full of very active blow holes, spewing salt water 25-30 meters in the air. All I saw was the flat pancake formation of the rocks. At this point, I have to add that throughout NZ, I have been very impressed by the standard of all the tourist attractions, especially considering they are mostly free. Following my uneventful visit to the rocks, I went for a walk into the bush, following the Truman Track, which skirted the banks of the Pororari River as it meandered through the forest gorge. The whole scene looked like something out of Jurassic park. The tall vegetation blocking out the otherwise blue sky, magnificent rock faces and deep gorges. The walk took me about 4 hours, culminating at the local tavern, where I sat and finished the last few pages of "Johnny Gingers Last Ride". The end of the book asks the question, 'Why do we travel?' I probably at this stage have to agree with the books conclusion, we travel because we don't know what we really want... Tuesday 8th - Cycle distance 95km, destination Hokatika Wednesday 9th - Cycle distance 77km, destination Hari Hari I've been asked what it is like cycling, well, as one person put it, 'It's like tap dancing naked'. I agree, it's not only your backside that gets sore, your sperm count is also non-existent. Here is a wee something I copied from a notice board while drinking (another) beer in the Hari Hari bar.
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Smart man + smart woman = Romance Smart man + Dumb Woman = Pregnancy Dumb man + Smart woman = Affair Dumb man + Dumb woman = Marriage Smart boss + Smart employee = Profit Smart boss + Dumb employee = Production Dumb boss + Smart employee = Promotion Dumb boss + Dumb employee = Overtime A man will pay $2 for a $1 item he needs. A woman will pay $1 for a $2 item she doesn't need. A woman worries about the future, until she gets a husband. A man never worries about the future, until he gets a wife. A successful man is one who makes more money than his wife can spend. A succesful woman is one who can find such a man. To be happy with a man, you must understand him a lot and love him a little. To be happy with a woman, you must love her a lot and not try to understand her at all. Married men live longer than single men, but married men are a lot more willing to die. A married man should forget his mistakes; there's no use in two people remembering the same thing. Men wake up as good looking as they went to bed. Women somehow deteriorate over night. A woman marries a man expecting he will change, but he doesn't. A man marries a woman expecting that she won't change, but she does. A woman has the last word in every argument - anything a man says after that is beginning a new argument. There are 2 times a man doesn't understand a woman - before marriage and after marriage.
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| Thursday 11th - Cycle distance 100km, destination Fox Glacier
There was a sudden change in the temperature; it was easily 10 degrees cooler. The guidebook informed me that I would only have 2 x 200mtr climbs. After my visit to the Franz Josef Glacier, I psyched myself up for the climbs, I had already don 75km today. Both climbs, though not the highest I have done, were steep and it was quite hard work. However, I pushed through and was singing 'hali-loo-ya' on the descent at the other side. Only to find that the guidebook was wrong, I was immediately faced with another 400mtr climb. I was F.U.C.K'd. Now no one can say I am not determined or lack self-motivation. I peddled on at a whopping 5kph, every bend in the upward climb, pure agony... Both the Franz and Fox Glaciers were awesome, with both still advancing down the hill at a speedy one foot per year. I spent Friday wandering around the surrounding countryside at Fox Glacier. Saturday 13th - Cycle distance 128km, destination Haast Village. It was raining when I surfaced, a wet drizzly rain, with low miserable looking clouds smothering the tops of the mountains. I hesitated before making up my mind to brave the weather and pack my bags. At 8:30 I clipped my crash helmet into place and headed out into the wet miserable rain. Just a short distance down the road I spotted a yellow-coated cyclist, so to get my muscles warmed up I pushed those pedals and tried to catch up. It was Barbara; I had met her briefly at Owen river a week ago. She was an older woman who had just come back from living in Cambodia for 2 years and now living in Wellington. Her daughter had offered to pay her airfare to go down to Lake Paringa for a holiday. Barbara refused saying she would cycle there and at the same time cycle around the south island. Bab's had done over 1000km to go and visit her daughter. We cycled together until lunch time when I had to say cheerio - Bab's was going too slow for me and I had a lot of ground to cover. At the 100km mark, I stopped to take some pictures from the 'Knights Point' lookout. There were a few tourists there all of them wanting to ask the same questions - 'did you cycle all the way up that hill? Where are you heading/ isn't it hard? etc. Except one young blond haired girl from Sweden, she wanted to ask if she could join me for the last 28km. Alison promised not to slow me down as she wrapped her fresh legs around her fresh from the boot of a car mountain bike. However, I wasn't complaining, of course she could join me. Alison was good company for the last 28km. Though we were cycling into a head wind, Alison peddling furiously, trying to beat the wind. I told her to slow down, when you have a head wind this strong, you just find a comfortable gear and peddle at a steady pace. We plodded along chin wagging. She had come over from Sweden (with her boy friend) to learn English. I left her with her boyfriend at a pub just outside Haast Village. Sunday 14th -Cycle distance 84km, destination Makarora ( Via the Haast Pass) I still felt tiered after yesterday?s long haul, however I had to move on and anyway Haast Village had nothing to keep me. There was a slight head wind as the road climbed at an almost unnoticeable angle. Well unnoticeable to the naked eye, my legs knew otherwise. The Haast Pass, everyone I had met on the road had something to say about it. 'Don't do it, get a bus', was the main response. I even met a group of American cyclists; they were cycling for some charity. They had all the backup, van to carry their luggage, backup crew to organise their lunch when they stopped and a van to carry their bikes. They were just loading their bikes onto the van when I met them at the foot of the pass. But no, I had to try it... When I reached the pass, I looked up the hill, NO! - mountain! 563mtr's of steeeep!! climbing. My first reaction was, Oh, Shit! There were quite a few campervans parked at the base of the waterfall, their owners wandering around taking photographs of the amazing views. Me, I didn't have time, well I didn't want to stop, I may have changed my mind and got the bus. I had to cross a bridge, which led me to the start of the climb, there were no other cyclists in sight and I felt the eyes of the lightweights (motor tourists) watching me. I gritted my teeth and grabbed hold of the handlebars of my somewhat over weight bike, stood on the pedals and pushed. Excuse the language but Oh FUCK.... It was going to be hard. I peddled a few hundred meters and stopped, I looked up in the direction I was going and thought, I'm going to have to push. I paused for thought and gave myself a shake, called myself names and remounted. I managed 50 pedal cycles (100mtr) before I had to stop again. I knew that 50 pedal strokes were 100mtr's because the road was marked off every 100mtr's - just to annoy us cyclists. So, this is how it went all the way to the top. 50 pedal strokes, breathe, then 50 more. On the odd occasion when the road levelled off slightly, I managed to travel a few hundred meters. I was kind of glad to find that my guidebook was wrong, it shows the pass as being 10km, when in fact it was only 3km. Once up the main gradient and into the pass itself, the road levelled of and passed through views and panoramas of the surrounding peaks. There were viewpoints with names like, Roaring Billy Falls, Thunder Creek Falls, Fantail Falls and the Gates of Haast. The Road itself was the main link between Westland (West South island) and Otago (the Scotland of NZ). In fact, the change of scenery between Westland and Otago was enormous. From the lush green vegetation to a sudden ruggedness of bare mountains of granite and only a sprinkling of green vegetation. Eventually after 7.5 hours of cycling, I parked my bike in the campsite at Makarora. There I met six other cyclists, ALL of whom pushed their bikes over the Haast. I bought myself a six pack and guzzled the first, putting the empty can on the table I said; ' now that was tough'. Makarora was nothing more than a campsite and a small airfield for taking rich (not me) tourists on scenic flights over the Pass and Glaciers. The owners, right out of the cast of the 'Beverley Hillbillies' were... well need I say more... Monday 15th - Cycle distance 75km, destination Wanaka After the Haast Pass, the cycling today was a breeze. Only 75km over gently rolling hills. I cycled with Uli and Ursula, a couple of Germans I had met initially in Motueka. We cycled past two huge lakes; the Hawea and the Wanaka, both surrounded by huge snow capped mountains. We arrived in Wanaka by 4pm bumping into Fiona and Julz who had arrived the day before. We also bumped into Annette (German) we had previously met her in Makarora. We arranged to go out for a beer later that evening. And what an evening, live music and loads of beer. Tuesday 16th - Day off Luckily, I had checked my tyre's they were both worn through. They had done 3000km. Time for some new ones. I spent the day giving the bike a good clean and a much-needed service. Wednesday 17th - Cycle distance 98km, destination Alexandra Thursday 18th - Cycle distance 107km, destination Lawrence Friday 19th - Cycle distance 103km, destination Dunedin Dunedin, the Edinburgh of the south, so they say. The only connections are the street names and the emigrants from Scotland who settled there. Nevertheless, Dunedin was a nice place nestled in at the end of the Otago harbour. I stayed for a week with Robyn and Terry whom I met through my website. They were a brilliant couple who looked after me maybe a bit too well; I found it quite difficult to get going again. Robyn worked for Tourism Dunedin and spent a lot of her spare time taking me around the sites. One site in particular was Larnach Castle, built in the Scottish baronial style in 1871. The Castle has been restored by the present owners, to as near as possible, if not better that the original. While in Dunedin, I also had the opportunity to cycle up the steepest street in the world.
Thursday 25th - Cycle distance 86km, destination Glenavy Terry was all toshed up and ready to go to his work, while Robyn and I piled into the car, bike and all. Robyn insisted, not that it took much persuasion, on taking me over the 'Killmog Hill'. The name was right, it would kill anyone, it wasn't so steep, it was long. In fact, we drove as far as Palmerston some 50km further on. The road seemed to climb all the way. As I had not been on the bike for a week, I felt a bit apprehensive but also excited to be back on the road. I packed my bike at the side of the road, said my emotional goodbyes to Robyn and wobbled away heading north. At this point I didn't know where I was heading, I thought I would just keep going till I was tiered. I reached a town called Omaru; it looked rather nice so I thought I would take a look. First stop, the tourist information office. I sat in the office for half an hour while the only person behind the counter waffled on to some German chick. Oh, did you know we have a German baker, I always buy my bread there and misses blah blah has a great grandfather who comes from.... I shouted, ' get a fuckin move on...' in my head of course. I couldn't be bothered hanging around so I unlocked my steed from the railing out side and moved on. I ended up in a place called Glenavy, the campsite was the worse I had ever seen. As I was in talking to the owner, who was in the middle of canning some freshly caught salmon. A van drove in, one of the kids shouted, 'Dad its the ratcatcher', Allan said to me, no, there here to catch the Possum's, they are causing havoc here. I'm inclined to believe the rat story. I stayed for one very uncomfortable night. Friday 26th - Cycle distance 105km, destination Geraldine. The road was easy going all the way to Geraldine. I was meeting up with a couple of guy's I met in Rarotonga. I reached the small town at 5:30; Sharn who had been at his mothers showed me the rented house I would be staying in. It was a large though quite sparsely furnished bungalow just of Geraldine main street (with a pub at the end of the road). He told me to relax have a beer etc and that he would be back around 7pm. At about 8pm Sharn and Brent came in we opened a few bottles of beer and sat chatting. A short time later, Bob, Mary, Jake and a few others arrived. I taught them the game of spoof, which we played for drinks (if we won we had a drink, if we lost we had a drink) until about 11pm when we all headed out to the pub. All I can remember of the pub was that it was busy, next thing I knew I was being woken up by Brent, I had been sleeping in the outhouse. It was about 3am. Keep in mind that I had cycled over 100km today. We all ended back at the bungalow drinking what ever was available. Then..... Well, you have to send me an email to find out. Saturday 27th - day off (recovering) Sunday 28th - Cycle distance 123km, destination Christchurch. It was 12noon when I left Geraldine, I was asked to stay longer but I thought I should keep going, I needed to dry out. The late start didn't bother me too much; I knew the road would be straight and relatively flat. What I didn't plan for was the continuous head wind, instead of me averaging 20-25kph I was lucky to hit 15kph. I had no choice but to keep going. I felt strong and content. At various stages along the route I stopped to phone Chris, the girl I met in Punakaiki, she wasn't in. I now had to think about alternative lodgings. It was getting late, I had never been cycling this late, the sun was beginning to sink. At the 80km mark, I tried again to phone Chris, this time she was in, she told me how to get to her house, which was right at the other side of Christchurch City. At 7:30, I stopped at a chip shop for tea Ha Ha!! I went into the shop and asked for a bag of chips, I was told that they were closing at 8pm and didn't have time to cook my bag of chips. Now that's what I call service... NOT!! I jumped back on my bike, belly rumbling and pushed against the head wind some more. The sun was sinking fast, I watched the horizon turn to a bright orange and the trees lining the sides of the road become mere silhouettes. I still had 20+km to cover, I thought I was going to have to stop and attach my lights for the first time since the journey began. Yippee! Chris arrived with her son Jake and a bike wrack. While I felt let down that I never quite made it to Christchurch and what would have been my longest distance (148km), I was glad of the lift. I could now sit comfortably and watch the sun on it's final descent, sinking slowly in the horizon behind me. Monday 29th - Day off I stayed with Chris for 10 wonderful days..... |
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