Day Night Thriller (Sept 2012)



Well, here we go again – the annual ‘Day Night Thriller’ 12 hour Mountainbike event in Taupo, 15 September.

We travelled down to Taupo on Friday, with a lunch time stopover at the Wharepapa South School & camping area. We had vague hopes that Emma would have a run around, some lunch & a snooze (so we could as well), but arriving at the School it was apparent something was on – cars everywhere. The annual District Sports Day – country schools from all round converging on Wharepapa for a day of sports in the sun. Emma immediately wanted to join in....

After a bit of lunch, a bike ride (Emma) & numerous goes on the slide in the playground, we were off again. Supermarket supplies, register, pitch tent at Event Village (more riding for Emma) & Motel check in – all completed with not too much fuss. Emma safely tucked into bed, time for Sandra & I to get cracking on making tomorrow’s major food ingredient – filled rolls.

Race day dawned fine, but cloudy. Rain on the way – just a matter of when. After a bit of sorting out where to park the car so Sandra & Emma could escape later, it was set up & get ready. Emma was already goggle eyed at the number of bikes around, happily watching the various goings on as teams arrived & set up their sites.

Start time of 10am rapidly approached & I took my place in the start line up next to one of the Bike Culture guys, also soloing (a 6 hour, as it turned out). The start loop was a short one & the track massively congested. I tangled quite badly with one rider, nearly going down, before fending her off with a decent shove.

The course was shortened to a paltry 6pointsomething kilometres, the organisers fearing the forecast for rain (and associated mud bogs).I quickly forgot to count my laps. It was massively busy, continuously passing other riders (or being passed). Thankfully after a short while things settled a bit & I was able to get into a nice steady rhythm. Riding past the tent for a second time, Sandra passed me a decent chunk of cookie (which I promptly dropped). Thankfully our pit was part way along one lane of the event village, leaving the return lane free for Sandra to have another shot – success this time.

The next few hours just passed – another lap, another pass by the pits, another chunk of food or some Leppin. Sandra was doing a great job, all I had to do was ride and eat whatever I was given. Easy! I was actually enjoying this – seeing Emma each lap, usually sitting on her bike, was awesome too. I’m sure I heard a “Go Daddy!” a couple of times!

Ginger crunch – the secret anti-nausea weapon did it’s job a couple of times. For some reason on these multi lap events I get motion sick (the 6km lap distance did not help either). Sitting at around 20 minutes a lap, it’s no wonder I was getting dizzy!

40km, 50km, 60km, 70km, I entertained the odd thought of stopping at the pit for a decent feed, but each time round, there was no need. 85km and I had my first actual stop – a quick ‘watering of the trackside flowers’ before continuing. Now it seemed like making it (virtually) non-stop to the 100km mark was going to be possible, something I have never done before in an event like this. A few laps later, there it was, 100km on the odometer. Nice!

I’d been feeling steadily worse – just getting tired and in some ways into “are we there yet?” mode. I decided to ride another couple of laps to get me beyond the 6 hour mark (when everyone in the 6 hour event is ordered off the course). The weather had been steadily deteriorating all afternoon – northerly wind picking up & getting gusty, with the odd light shower coming through.

4.30pm – time for coffee and a big feed. It also conincided nicely with Sandra’s final packup & removal of most of the gear from the tent, so I was able to eat, caffeinate & supervise Emma while Sandra ran the last few items back to the car. The remaining gear would see me through to the finish at 10pm – just the tent, small food box, water bottle, leppin bottle & 2 thermoses (hot choc & coffee) and a small drybag of spare clothes & bike items. While I was stopped a really heavy shower of rain came through – I was thankful not to be caught in it.

Resuming again, it was definitely apparent that the last shower had caused the course to deteriorate. Mentally running through the numbers, I figured that if the weather did not get any worse, then 12 more laps might just be possible. I resolved to have a crack at 4 sets of 3 laps, a short break in between.

The first set of 3 passed quickly, although it began to lightly rain for the last 2 of those laps. Stopping at the pit, I shed my sodden tops, replacing with a dry set and my jacket – all the while eating & drinking.

Back out again, light rain continuing. Another set of 3 knocked off. Somewhat tired & out of it I pulled in for more food & a battery change. Back out again and it was immediately apparent I was deteriorating rapidly. Legs were very sore and I was very, very tired – the food not having any effect now. 2 very slow laps completed. I kept telling myself “it’s not as bad as the Wharfedale” (my new benchmark for misery & suffering), but after 2 of the planned 3 laps my slow crawl was enough – more coffee needed.

Stopping at the pit for what would be my last stop of the event, I reasoned that if I got a wriggle on, I could nail 2 more laps before the course closed at 10pm. Suitably motivated, out I went into the dark, rain and mud. I don’t know what it was – the coffee or the threat of only doing 1 lap if I was too slow to start another, but the transformation was remarkable. I was buzzing again and the next lap disappeared smartly.

Final lap! Once again the legs began to scream, but I was motivated enough to get round in time that I ignored the pain, just thankful that I wouldn’t have to do any more laps of the now very muddy course. A final run through the downhill section, a couple of pinch climbs, then back to the event village again and the finish line. Woohoo! I had no idea how many laps I had done or where I had finished.

Back in the tent again, two priorities – add another dry layer underneath my muddy jacket to keep the shivers at bay and eat as much as I dared. The plan from here was to load everything (including tent) into my big tramping pack, catch prizegiving, then ride back to the Motel with all the gear on my back. Good plan, but for the first 10 minutes all I seemed to do was move things from one side of the tent to the other – brain a little fried, I think.

I emerged from the tent into the next heavy downpour – yuck. Thankfully the neighbouring site had abandoned their big Ezy-Up canopy thing and I was able to store my bike & gear under it and out of the weather. The tent came apart better than I thought it would and in no time I had a large pile of gear sitting next to my tramping pack under the canopy.  Loading the pack was reasonably intuitive- things went where I thought they would go, even though I had no idea if everything would fit! Think I startled a couple of people as my groan in lifting the pack onto my back was pretty loud! About 20 odd kilos, I reckon – all the water from the tent adding to the weight. Harness secured, it actually wasn’t too bad. I made it to the prizegiving area just as things were ending – a whole bunch of sodden people standing in the rain, hoping their number would come up for the final big spot pize.

The next challenge was the ride back to the Motel – fortunately I was able to get onto the bike okay with the huge pack on and the ride passed quickly. At the Motel, Sandra helped me off-load the pack and had the perfect idea of using a banana box for the wet and muddy clothes I was wearing. After performing an impromptu and decidedly un-erotic stripshow outside the Motel unit door, I disappeared inside and straight to the shower. Done!

27 laps, 175km and 10^th male solo. Pretty happy with that!



Cateye Moonride (May 2012)

Well, another Moonride done & dusted! Also a milestone – this was my 5^th 24 hour solo race.

Change of venue this year – the tracks where the event is usually held at Waipa forest have recently been logged and are in the process of reinstatement. The event organisers announced a new & exciting venue – Tui Ridge Park, out at the ‘back of beyond’ Ngongotaha end of town.

Having never ridden at Tui Ridge before, I was a little apprehensive as to what to expect. All I knew was that the track would most likely be benign (this is an event for the masses, not just the experienced) and that the venue had proper camp ground style toilet blocks, some cabin style accommodation and a hall to use as race HQ. My only hopes were that the tracks would be ‘mountain bike’ standard, not ‘dual use’ tracks (there is a big difference in terms of layout & flow) and that we would get decent weather – to make the elusive 300km dream possible (previous best 250km in 24 hours).

The week leading up to the event and the weather looked shaky – sure enough, the Rotorua raino’meter recorded 42mm of rain over one day, 3 days prior to the event – oh dear. Mentally, I changed gear – the words ‘mud’ and ‘moonride’ always seem to be in the same sentence!

Sandra & Emma were going to do a day support for me on the Saturday, so after a massive BBQ’d T Bone steak for lunch on Friday, it was into my loaded car & off to Rotorua. Registration, then race start 9pm.

Arriving at Tui Ridge, it didn’t look so bad – just a stiff south westerly making it rather cold. Registration done and (dry) pit site found, I quickly set up my pit, organised food and bike and wolfed down a couple of yummy filled rolls. I had time for a quick recce of the park, before changing & heading over to Race Briefing, which was a remarkably chilled out affair (the main organiser can sometimes be a tad flustered by the time briefing rolls round).

Taking my place in the front half of the pack of 24hour team & solo riders, the countdown to the gun, then off! I was riding Mojo, gears & suspension helping me ease into the course. Off the road & into the track proper, I was surprised with the quality of the track – 4WD width, smooth, with great flow & no nasty bits. There was a flat bit leading to a nice downhill (exposed to the teeth of the wind), more flat/downhill, then a shallow climb, which turned into a steep pinch climb at the end. Across a clearing, up a rise, then into a fantastically flowy downhill to flat section, which turned onto a small climb another flat section, then climbing up towards the main entry/exit road. Across the road at the controlled point, before a rough but fast blast down one side of the gravel road, then up & into the forest again. Short flat section, leading to a bridge (nowhere as dangerous as the briefing suggested it was), then a climb onto a plateau – straight along until a series of short tracks that climbed up to drop us back at the start of the huge park area. Ride around the perimeter, cross the timing mats, 6.5km total.  Slow going, though – I was being pretty cautious and already there were definitely boggy bits of track to avoid.

Lap 2 and I had the distinct feeling gears would be a disadvantage, lap 3 and decision made. Stopping at the toilet block at the far end of the camp area, I spied the firehose – applied this to my already very muddy drivetrain (I had the good fortune to be the first rider to discover this particular firehose). Back at my pit, I locked Mojo to the car & grabbed my singlespeed bike – the Tranny (trust me – that’s what Ibis Cycles named it – it has a clever frame design that allows the bike to either run gears or as a singlespeed, without using a chain tensioner device, hence its ability to ‘transform’ i.e. Tranny). As it will be my future Brevet bike (in geared mode), I was actually looking forward to spending an extended period of time riding it. In the past it has always been the ‘backup’ bike – so not wanting to trash my only just rebuilt (and still paying for) Mojo drivetrain gave the Tranny the opportunity to shine.

Fun! That’s the only word to describe the next couple of laps. Having only 1 gear instead of 27 and being slightly over-geared for the conditions (I was running a 34/18 setup, probably should have been 32/18) meant that any pedalling was propelling me forward at much greater speed than on Mojo as I sought to get on top of the gear. No rear suspension meant that all the power was being used to propel me forwards. The track was deteriorating more and with the larger gearing it meant I had to run/walk sections that I was riding on Mojo.

12.30am, time for the midnight feast and battery change. Rather discouraged at the already very muddy track, I got out of the cold into the car with a thermos of coffee and a decent amount of food. The novelty of riding the Tranny had worn off – this was now no fun – just a slog in the dark, trying not to go base over apex in the mud. I seriously considered giving up at this point. I came here to ride, dammit, not walk with my bike! Other solo riders I had spoken to on course felt the same, the Tui Ridge dirt over clay surface holding water far more effectively than the Waipa dirt. For a lot of us, the track was down to 2/3rds rideable – what would happen in the morning, when the 12 and 6 hour events started on the same course?

The coffee and that voice in my head both got me up and moving again though, took half a lap to warm up. Second half of each lap was where the worst mud was, the unrideable section and number of walkers growing by the hour.

Food, ride, push, ride – pretty much the pattern for the next few hours. At 5.30am I stopped with the intention of a quick but decent feed, then riding through the dawn. I felt pretty out of it and queasy and as I jumped off the bike at my pit nausea overcame me. Thankfully only a short bout of dry retching. Feeling pretty rotten I jumped into the car (it was definitely warmer in there than in the 4 degree pre-dawn), with my friends Coffee and Food. After consuming my friends with less than rabid enthusiasm, I lay back on the seat, eyes closed, helmet still on, willing myself to carry on. Slowly, life returned as my friends Coffee and Food worked their magic and at 7am I jumped back on the bike.

The next few laps were good – the track steadily packing down as the dew lifted. The 6 & 12 hour riders stared at 9am (I was in the forest & could hear the PA getting louder & more frantic as their start loomed. Following in their wake, I picked off a few back markers – who were already struggling on the (now deteriorating again) trails.

Breakfast at 9.30am – a call to Sandra (I was thinking of cutting the event short – but would ride until they got there) and another lap – and another – and another – and another. Hmm, track back to a lot of walking again, but for some reason it was easier in daylight and I began to enjoy myself. It was helped by the 2 downhill parts to the track that were not full of mud – they were just pure fun to ride and I was learning the art of very subtle bike control to hold my lines and not veer off into mud bogs.

Sandra & Emma appeared just as I had started another lap – this gave me a good boost and soon I joined them at my pit for lunch. Sandra primed Emma into cheerleader mode and off I rode, another lap down, then another, another and another. I might just keep riding & see what happens....

Dinner at 5pm heralded the arrival of my full cheerleading squad – Brother in law Graham, wife & family. Hello, ra-ra, see you tomorrow, another couple of laps done. Sandra & Emma departed around this time – back on my own again to ride (maybe) a couple more laps, then an early finish.

2 laps turned into 3. Suddenly a realisation that if I got cracking, I could get another 2 laps in, instead of the 1 lap planned. The course by now was a ride/push/ride/push/ride/looong push mix, 50% rideable. What seemed to make it enjoyable out there were the other riders around me – a mix of 12 & 24 hour riders, who were very friendly. I received many compliments for riding solo – especially once the person I was talking to realised that it was 24 hour solo and on a singlespeed! (the ‘solo’ helmet cover given to all soloists clearly identifies us as nutcases). This all made a very nice change from the usual aggressive atmosphere of past Moonrides, where people get impatient and want track space.

My last 2 laps were ‘splash & dash’ style. Refuelled with just enough food, I was on a mission to make the last lap count (any lap completed  after 2400 doesn’t count). I even ran through some of the worst mud bog!

Done! 20 minutes to spare – not enough time for another lap (my last few were at the 40 minute mark), but enough time to start the eat/drink/escape from wet & muddy gear/pack up process, before cold & fatigue took their toll.

150km done, 130km of it on the Tranny. Oddly, it’s a bike that I’ve never seriously thought I’d ride in a 24 solo - yet it was brilliant. Super comfy & a heap of fun to ride! No trashed drive train, either!

Filled rolls, a lukewarm hot chocolate and water sufficed for dinner, consumed in the large gymnasium during prizegiving. Extremely nice to be able to sit in a warm, well lit building – instead of standing about in the cold or rain, willing the organiser to ‘get it over with’.

Finish packing, then a naughty drive to the campground in Nogngotaha where Sandra & Emma had grabbed a cabin. I’d packed a tent to stay at the event village afterwards, but the fact that my pit had turned into a mud bog (thanks to excessive bikewashing just over the way, meaning water straight into my pit area and onto the track), so the idea of pitching camp was less than appealing. The noise of the many generators used by various teams makes sleep difficult to come by anyway.

Sandra was quick to orientate me at the campground and I did an extremely good job of quietly (it was midnight) getting lost. For some reason the toilets were in a separate building to the showers and sinks, meaning a trip to 2 buildings for a loo and toothbrush. Emerging out of the shower building I confidently headed off in the wrong direction. This ended near a fence. Changing tack, I had another go. Nup. Just when I was wondering how on earth I could be so lost 100 metres from the cabin (the campground isn’t very big, either), I figured it out, arrived back at the cabin and fell onto the bed. 41 hours without sleep – Moonride 2012 was over.

Kiwi Brevet 2012 - Epilogue

Epilogue – the next day

My falling onto the bed last night hadn’t included getting into the sleeping bag. At some hour I woke and managed to climb in.

Breakfast (my usual back home – yogurt) and coffee (instant) were consumed at a leisurely pace, then I entered the bathroom. First to go was the beard (sadly it was a mix of dark and grey, making me look just like I hadn’t shaved in over a week, rather than the ‘designer beard’ look I had hoped for). Manky clothing safely sealed into a plastic bag, it was into the shower. The water at the bottom of the shower tray was a grey colour....

Refreshed and into clean clothes (none of them bike ones), I decided to head to town to drop the SPOT tracker off at the pre-arranged Bike Store, grab a second breakfast, a dose of email at an internet cafe (also to read the KB site) and find something for my girls. Couldn’t be bothered walking, so it was back onto the bike again..... actually didn’t feel that bad – even without wearing bike shorts. Quick spin back to Auckland anyone?

A lap of the town (mainly assessing breakfast options), before settling on the proper place – an awesome looking cafe that had a neat outdoor seating area just over the road from Seymour Square.

Entering the cafe, I scanned the menu. Bacon & Eggs in various forms – nup, we’re still not friends. Continental options – nup, could have fixed that at the Motel by adding cornflakes to my yogurt. Then I spied it on the lunch menu (it was 10am). Fish & Chips – YES!

Coffee in hand, I sat outside looking at Seymour Square, a silly smile still on my face. There were a few other diners also taking advantage of the sun & view. The food arrived – a large plate of fish & chips, salad & sauce. YES! Think I might have been a bit loud in my ‘Ohh, you beaut!’ when the plate landed in front of me – most of the other diners started laughing.... No matter though, food consumed at emergency speed (there were some looks of disbelief). The second coffee and large slice of chocolate brownie were a slightly more leisurely conclusion to the meal.

Fed and happy, internet & shopping done, I stopped at Seymour Square for a final look around – offering a quick prayer of thanks in the process. I’d be back – I just knew I would.

Back at the Motel, the owners allowed me to use their hose and gave me cleaning rags for my (somewhat dirty) bike. I was able to strip and clean the bike on the front lawn of the Motel – Mr Owner even popping over for a chat in the process. Padding on, into the bike box my friend went – it’s amazing how attached I can get to my bike on our big adventures!

One final trip to the Supermarket to buy the carnivorous part of dinner, then a bit of relaxing to be had outside the Motel (each unit had a private courtyard that got lots of sun). Sitting in the evening sunshine, I plugged back into my phone MP3 playlist and updated my diary with the last couple of day’s events. My final diary entry:-     

“Writing this at Motel in lovely evening sun. Already the memories of those really hard times is dulling – I survived didn’t I? Went into town today – massive feed at cafe by the Square. Ate at emergency pace, much to the amusement of other patrons! Couldn’t help but smile as I rode away from Seymour Square – will I return on a bicycle? Who knows?! Think it will take a while to process what I have achieved. Yes, I didn’t ride a lot of the singletrack, but I did complete the course – 90% of it completely alone.

For now, back home. My lovely Wife Sandra & beautiful Daughter Emma await. Bikepacking allows you a different experience to car based travel – life is truly stripped to the basics – food, water, shelter. The missing ingredient is love – without that I never would have had the courage to push on. For the love and support from my Wife and Family, I am truly grateful.

The End.

       – Graeme 13.02.2012” 

Kiwi Brevet 2012 - Day 9

Day 9 – Havelock – Blenheim 105km

Slightly more leisurely start this morning - 6.30am wakeup, with a Cookie Time cookie and hot chocolate being breakfast, consumed in the cookhouse with the phone charging next to someone’s toast. I was keen for a proper breakfast at the bakery just up from the camp, so at 7.30 I rolled up. Coffee and sandwiches, very civilised!

Hitting the road towards Picton, it was another stunning day, which made the views across the water very pretty. Road is undulating & windy, as it follows the coast for a fair bit of the trip to Picton. After a photo stop, it was time to plug into the phone for musical goodness.

Inspired! ‘Doctor in the Tardis’ (a Dr Who knock-off song) and Offspring’s ‘Get a job’ (a knock-off of the Beatles “Desmond & Molly”), provided some oomph to the riding and the opportunity for a sing-song (at least it did when I wasn’t going up a steep hill). By far the best though, was Janis Joplin’s ‘Mercedes Benz’. Sung without music accompaniment and with a voice that has seen its share of big country and big living, it was simply inspired.

‘Oh lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz,

My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends,

Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends,

So oh Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz’

...... on it goes. The best verse –

‘Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a night on the town,

I’m counting on you Lord, please don’t let me down,

Prove that you love me and buy the next round,

So oh Lord, won’t you buy me a night on the town’

I set the playlist to repeat, so every time I got to sing, leading to some interesting moments for anyone who happened to be out walking, riding, gardening, or just within earshot. Come to think of it, I might have scared a few people as well....

Picton – lovely view from up the hill above town, surprised one last group of runners and overtook a car on the descent.

Quickly found the Bakery, 4 Square and Cafe, assembling all 3 in one large eating and supply binge. I knew the road ahead would be tough – bloody tough, with no opportunity for resupply. It had taken Ollie (lead rider) 4 hours to do the 58km that is Port Underwood Rd from Picton – I was figuring I would take 6. The streetside garden/bench things were perfect for a big eat & sort out – I loaded on water and snacks, thermals off, sunscreen on, music sorted. Had an interesting conversation with a couple of tourists and another KB rider (who had finished yesterday & was en-route back to Wellington).

 The first 15km went pretty quick, leaving civilisation behind, before beginning the ascent of ‘Heartbreak Hill – tarseal version’. This went on and on and on – nearly an hour, just to climb one hill! At the top I was rewarded with 2 things – a stunning view down the coast towards Kaikoura and the start of the gravel.

Gnarly stuff it was – fist sized rocks in a lot of places, ready to catch & throw me off line. Down, up, down again – reasonable hills, mostly rideable – hey, this isn’t so bad!

Spoke too soon – after stopping for a snack, I started up yet another hill. This one went on and on, climbing an awful lot further than the previous others. Topping out, I could see an awesome bay with a beautiful beach – perfect spot for an afternoon snack!

Stopped for a bit – there is a DOC campground here at the southern end and what looks like a good water supply & toilets. Ate & chilled out, watching a couple of jetskis playing in the waves further down the beach. I could see that the road out of here would not be easy – a very, very long climb! I watched a car ascend (slowly). It took a while....oh dear.

Onwards and upwards is the only way – the road pointed up just after the DOC campground. This was steep! Started walking. Part way up, I stopped for a photo, looking back at the beach where I had just been. Pretty impressive view already! I continued walking, then tried to ride some. Just when I thought I was getting the hang of it, I stalled the bike on one of those fist sized rocks and down I went – grazed knee and sore elbow. Not impressed!! Sandra had impeccable timing, phoning me just after I had resumed my lonely trudge upwards (I did call her back 10 minutes later and we had a much happier conversation). I was on the gels now, food wasn’t adding much to my energy levels and I was feeling pretty well gone. Just wanted to get it over with.

‘Heartbreak Hill’ (gravel version) kept on. I took another photo, further up. Finally, I topped out. The view (pretty good before) was flipping awesome now! More photos. I was right up in amongst power pylons, right on the tops.

A short descent, followed by another climb back up, then a long downhill – back to sea level. The second DOC camp YAY!! I am definitely getting out of this!!

The final climb – now back on tarseal. Not quite as steep as before, not quite as long and I rode the whole thing.

I stopped at the top – I could see Blenheim!!!

That final descent was a mix of being careful and letting rip. I let go of the brakes a few times, watching the speed rocket over 60kph, before hauling it back in for a dodgy looking corner. One final corner and Rarangi Beach appeared, along with another one of those famous ‘KB’ roadsigns.

Stopped and changed Cue Sheets for the final time. This one would take me all the way back to Seymour Square.

Riding on the flat roads out of Rarangi, I could see the big hills in the distance beyond Blenheim. It was then it hit me – those were the same hills I rode through 8 days ago.

Just one of those moments in life that adds to your soul. Very rare and very special.

12km to go, nearly done. Simon had sent us on a mini tour of the Blenheim flatlands, keeping away from State Highway 1 for most of the journey back in.

A few final turns - now in ‘downtown’ Blenheim, then I was there. Seymour Square! I couldn’t stop the smile from reaching ear to ear! I spied a couple of tourists starting to walk through the Square and using all the charm I could muster I managed to convince them to take the all important finishing photo. Nice! After telling them a bit of my story, one of them lined up for a photo with me!

I sat down, my bike leaning up against the fountain wall. Did the all important final text-in, then called Sandra, then Mum & Dad. WOOOHOOO!

I turned off the SPOT tracker for the final time. 8 days and 9 hours. 1130km.

Eventually, it was time to leave.

Arriving back at the Motel, I checked in, collected the bike box - the Motel owner reckoned I should have a dip in their spa (I mustn’t have ponged that bad!). Food first – and a couple more phone calls.

Back into the recovery tights and thermal top, over the road to the supermarket, meat, garlic bread (the Motel unit had an oven) and coleslaw for dinner, also breakfast supplies. Oh yes, some beer too. I think I frightened a couple of people there – I felt completely out of it (need food NOW), looking like something that had arrived from somewhere else (in that respect, I had) and was a bit wobbly. I was also wearing a stupid grin (the kind of grin you get when you know something huge is finished).

Food consumed at emergency speed again. Most of a large packet of potato chips & a beer while cooking. Phone calls. A big thank you call to Warrick – kind of a guardian angel in some ways, watching over me (he had one of his  computers in his home office on my SPOT the whole time, alerting Sandra if I was going off-route).

Didn’t even make the shower – was talking on the phone to Sandra and all of a sudden felt really, really tired. I just grabbed my sleeping bag and fell onto the bed.

Kiwi Brevet 2012 - Day 8

Day 8 – St Arnaud – Havelock 170km

The weather summed up how I felt – a bit grim. Canned peaches for brekkie again, washed down with a king size mug of hot chocolate.

I rugged up – it was still windy & cold. No rain, but it had rained overnight. The first 4km to the turnoff were horrible. Straight into a freezing headwind and uphill, I plugged along at 8kph. Hardly a fast start! Things improved a bit after the turnoff, a tailwind for a little bit and some downhill, before things returned to undulating.

The weather got worse – cold & rainy. I couldn’t see much because of the rain & spray coming off the front tyre. Should have stopped before I did (there was a lovely grove of trees overhanging the road at one point – dry underneath), instead riding & hoping it would ease. It didn’t, and when I started shivering uncontrollably I found  the nearest tree next to the road and headed for it – removing front drybag & grabbing my extra polypro to wear under my jacket. Had a small meltdown here – why is it so difficult!

Resumed riding – still shivering, but I needed to move on. Skipped a section of gravel road in favour of fast tarseal, hoping that the weather would break as I returned towards sea level. Not long after, I looked down at the cranks & noticed the non-drive side was falling apart. A big glob of what I thought was mud (actually grease) and the crank arm had a worrying wobble to it. Nooooo! Stopped & checked – yes, the crank was coming apart. Couldn’t tell at that point if it was the bottom bracket (bearings) or the crank itself (which may have been grease packed?), either way not good news, as the grease was in there for a reason. Possibly an expensive fix. Vowing just to ride until it completely came apart, I continued. This late in the ride I decided I’d rather not faff about in a Nelson Bike Shop & just get it rebuilt when I got home.

Wakefield! Dry, but still cold. A quick recce discovered the Bakery on the main highway promised the best food (but yucky coffee) and a cafe on a side street promised the best coffee (but minimal food). I ordered a coffee. Some time later (the slowest coffee I’ve ever had to wait for!) I got my coffee & went back around the corner to grab delicious bakery treats. The grass verge outside the Police Station on the main road provided the best impromptu picnic spot. I also had a good look at the crank – both bolts were loose and no more grease had fallen out, so just tightened things up as hard as I could with the multi-tool.

Navigating the Nelson Cycleways was not difficult, but I did find myself laughing a little at the context. After months of commuting in Auckland’s traffic I was well versed in car vs cycle activities and found the whole run into Nelson on cycleways a little quiet. There is a camp ground to be had at the beach on the western end of town – with McDonalds close by. Didn’t stop, as I’d end up at the beach, and not move for a long time. Found the text-in point and rode a quick lap of the town before settling on Columbus Coffee as my (late) lunch choice. Cafe was brilliant – nice outdoor area, good food & coffee and a filtered water tap to refill water bladders at. The cafe had music going over the outdoor speakers and as I was about to leave I heard a song I had not heard in ages – think it’s called ‘Ballad of a Cowgirl’ – “pack my bags and mount my horse, I going to ride on into the next town, ain’t got no shame, nobody knows my name, ride on into the next town” Summed up my current situation exactly!

It was here I made a navigational error. I decided to skip the walk up/walk down Maungatapu track (climbs to 1000m before descending) in favour of the much longer (on paper) road route to Pelorus Bridge, where the track re-joined, then onto Havelock. I misread a text from Sandra, thinking 41km to Havelock – so was confident I would get there before any takeaways closed – so did not buy any food to have as emergency dinner.

Leaving the coast, the road climbed – and climbed – and climbed some more. I was getting used to reading the land now and knew this was a biggie, as I couldn’t see any sign of a summit yet. No problems, not far to go. Wrong! After finally topping out ‘Heartbreak Hill’, the sweet run I thought I’d have didn’t eventuate. Instead of a fast descent and then the flat of Rai Valley, I had a small descent and an undulating road, before climbing the next monster hill. Passing the 50km mark, I knew I’d screwed up somewhere, confirmed when I did make it to the real Rai Valley. A map board showed the road ahead and distances – 27km more to go, with Pelorus Bridge (Cafe), then Canvastown (Pub) to come before Havelock. The map board showed the 3 places as roughly equidistant . It was just after 7pm. Food anxiety immediately set in. Jacket on (getting cold again) there was nothing to do but go as fast as possible and hope something was still open.

Undulating road to Pelorus Bridge didn’t help the food anxiety any. Beech forest, quite pretty, but also cold and dark. Rode into the DOC camping ground there (Cafe/Office all in one). Cafe closed. I enquired with the DOC worker whether she could sell me a can of food. ‘Can only give you food if you’re staying’ was the unhelpful response. I changed tack & quizzed her about the road ahead – fearing another ‘Heartbreak Hill’ was lying in wait between here & Havelock. After getting her assurance the road was flat, I quickly made to leave. DOC worker chased after me & gave me a pre-prepared salad sandwich (leftover from cafe). She said it was the day before yesterdays (making it 3 days old). I thanked her & quickly filed it in my bag, knowing I had something else to add to the 2 cookies and 3 (yucky) OSM bars I had left.

Head down, hunkered over the aerobars the forest suddenly ended and green fields abounded. Actually a nice evening once out of the tree cover! Made good time to Canvastown – only a pub there and I could see from the main road it was closed. Not a vehicle or soul in sight. Kept going, starting to get dark now, should fit lights, no, keep going, speed 30+kph, only 9km to go. Started to feel a bit light headed, need food, can’t eat any food yet as it may have to be my dinner, keep going.... I had been here before – my run to the start of Wharfedale was like this!

Suddenly, a sign. “Welcome to Havelock”, followed by a sign for “.... restaurant, open 5.30pm until late” SAVED! Hoping the ‘until late’ meant at least until 9.00pm, I kept going into the township itself. I passed some houses, a closed 4 Square and an Irish Pub (open), before spotting the sign pointing to the campground and the Havelock Hotel all in the same instant. The locals watering hole – lots of cars parked outside and it was looking lively. YAY!

Campground was only 100m from the Pub. Owners were fantastic – appreciating that I was checking in BEFORE my late dinner. I was able to leave the bike outside the Reception area next to their house, while I went for dinner Grabbing a polypro top (I had the shivers again), I headed to the pub.

Brilliant choice! There was a live band that had come over from the West Coast. I was able to order Fish & Chips at the bar & grab a table at the quieter end of the pub, where a beer and a packet of potato chips disappeared at emergency speed. Dinner arrived soon after (8.45pm). Awesome fish & chips! Eating & rocking out to the band that was playing was just fantastic! Dessert ordered & disappeared only slightly slower than main course (the bar lady reckoned I wouldn’t need dessert – the mains were usually big enough - oops). Kitchen closes at 9pm (give or take), pub is open longer.

What a fantastic final night! Sitting at my table I soaked in the atmosphere, enjoying the band & the atmosphere immensely. It didn’t matter I was still in lycra bike shorts and a jacket, bike shoes on my feet, looking (and smelling) like I had been living rough, I was welcome. I also downloaded a few more songs into my phone, as the MP3 battery was nearly flat, so having a new playlist on the phone tomorrow would be good.

Eventually I had to leave – still needed to pitch the tent & fall into it. I decided to finish the Brevet properly, by following the proper course to Picton and through Port Underwood Rd back to Blenheim, instead of just cutting down the main highway. I felt like I’d just been given a gift and finishing properly was the best I could do to honour it.

Kiwi Brevet 2012 - Day 7

Day 7 – Springs Junction – St Arnaud 160km

Hot canned spaghetti for breakfast, courtesy of Peter’s Motel microwave. Had a fairly average sleep – waking at regular intervals with trucks manoevering outside the Motel. Just after 7am I left, bidding Peter farewell. His Dad was coming over from Christchurch to pick him up.

It was misty & drizzly as I took the first gravel road of the day – a road named on the Cue Sheet as one thing, yet the signpost gave an entirely different name. About 200m in there is an obvious clearing in the bush on the left hand side – Peter & co bivvy spot I’d say. I dispatched this road fairly quickly & rejoined the main highway to Maruia.

The drizzle turned to light rain as I stopped at the Maruia Cafe – has camping/Motels attached. Looked better than Springs Junction, although the Cafe had an ambience that would have been more at home in Ponsonby or Parnell than in the middle of effectively nowhere. Ham & cheese omelette (my relationship with eggs ended after this), toast & decent coffee were devoured at moderate speed, watching to see if the rain would set in or ease.

Happily setting off (rain easing) it was up the Maruia Saddle on a ‘Simon’ detour off the main highway which would last all the way to Murchision. I’d had a vague hope of getting to Wakefield tonight, but the combination of hills, a very slow surface & lethargy after a broken night’s sleep saw this slipping away. At least the rain had stopped & the sky was clearing. The descent off the Saddle was fun, but not that fast – lots of fords, where water from the mountain streams just picked its own course across the road.

Murchison and a decent cafe. For some reason again I was back to not feeling hungry, so didn’t eat as much as I probably should have. Ended up eating something really sweet & having a second coffee to try & kick start things, as all I wanted to do was sleep.

After hearing that others had struggled on the Porika Track (Braeburn is mellow – but hilly), I elected to take the road route (longer) to St Arnaud. I’d picked up a basic AA South Island map back at Jacksons, so I could at least be a little informed about route choice.

From here it was just a grovel. One of those days when the body just doesn’t fire. I gave up waiting for the caffeine & sugar to kick in (it never did) and just ground my way onwards. Around 5ish I reached the turnoff for St Arnaud. It was getting cold & rain was threatening. Quick jacket & snack stop, then onwards, making better progress for the next 20 minutes or so.

The road started to climb – I was heading back up, rather than continuing down to Nelson’s sea level. A lot of small inclines and false flats, following a river upstream (meaning I was definitely climbing) until the mother of all straight roads loomed. Very, very, very long and reasonably flat, it just stretched waaaay off into the distance. I was in open country now and an annoying side/head wind popped up, meaning there was nothing for it but to hunker down on the aerobars, tuck my head down and hope it would all end soon. It did – round a corner and I found myself onto the mother in-law of all straight roads. Longer than the last and with the wind definitely less from the side and more from the front, it was awful. I entertained myself watching the front tyre go round – until I felt completely disorientated & slightly ill (try it sometime, it is a bit odd – focussing on the tyre tread while the road slips by underneath). I just couldn’t get comfortable – not really sore, just uncomfy and definitely into “are we there yet?” mode.

Signs of life – DOC track signs mainly. I passed a sign for a campground (more on this in a sec) and continued for a bit. It had rained here recently and a low mist clagged everything in. Cold too, a definitely southerly bite to the moderate wind.

Finally, St Arnaud. It was after 7pm, I was very cold & tired. There is nothing much here at all – another sign for a DOC camping ground, a fish & chip shop, a petrol station/general store (actually well stocked) and a very flash looking Hotel/Motel/Backpacker Lodge setup (there’s also a Motel further up the road – did not discover until later).

I called in at the Takeaway store first – no immediate panic, they close at 8.30. Into the Petrol Station/General Store. I enquired about accommodation (I knew that by the time I had eaten it would be a late night mission to make it to Wakefield – and having struggled all day I thought it would be too much). Only camping to be had was a DOC site 1km from the village, but this would be full the person reckoned. It does have a hot shower though, I was informed (not much use if you can’t stay there). The other DOC camping ground is 5km back up the main road, then a few km down a gravel road. No way I was going back the way I had come! I bought a couple of snacks, ate & went across to the Backpackers across the road. No obvious Office, so went into the flash Lodge, which had a Hotel like lobby & Reception. I enquired about the Backpackers - $80 for a room. OUCH! Either that or back into the cold mist for a freezing ‘maybe’ of a close campsite, so out with the Mastercard it was. The Receptionist then assumed her best Serjeant Major role and gave me a top sheet, bottom sheet and pillowcases – “duvet is on the bed, NO sleeping bags allowed!”

Got to my room – actually not that bad, a queen size bed, cabinet, heater & duvet. I immediately broke the rules – not only failing to make the bed as instructed (I just unrolled my sleeping bag – it was easier), I also brought my bike into the room. (To be fair I only discovered the ‘no bikes’ rule AFTER I had closed my room door AFTER bringing my bike in – the sign was on the back of the door.) Bathrooms down the hall (a bit too utilitarian) and a common kitchen/dining/lounge upstairs. I got changed into warmer gear (i.e. the rest of my clothes) and headed back out to the store & takeaways for the dinner/breakfast & snack food purchases.

Ate at the Backpackers – only other residents were a German couple, who were having a break from the monotony of nights in their small campervan. Caught the weather forecast at the end of the TVNZ 7 late news – it promised clearing skies for tomorrow.

Failing the (unwritten but nonetheless undoubtedly present) cleanliness rule (I was too tired to shower) I fell onto the bed & asleep.

Kiwi Brevet 2012 - Day 6

Day 6 – Jacksons to Springs Junction 150km

My planned 7am departure slipped towards 7.45, not wanting to leave the nice camp.... I actually felt quite good mentally, almost with a ‘naughty’ feeling, as I knew I would be skipping sections of the route today.

Got cellphone coverage again pretty quick once underway, Simon had texted to say skip Waiuta if pressed for time. Confirmed my thinking!

The roads were pretty easy, through dairy country as the route followed Lake Brunner for a bit. I stuck with the main road, having felt that by avoiding some of Simon’s gravel road detours I’d save some time. I was learning pretty quickly that if there was a long, slow way then the route would follow it!

Mentally I still found it hard – I wasn’t wearing MP3 yet and riding completely alone dark thoughts would come calling. I snapped out of the funk when I passed a sign promising Cafe delights to be had at Moana, about 10km ahead. Perfect place for a second breakfast!

At Moana, I passed the turnoff to one of the roads the route took (so if necessary next time round, it is possible to divert into Moana for supplies), before finding the (very flash) cafe mentioned on the sign. I rolled up, parked the bike in the custom made bike racks in the carpark & strode in. I was greeted by a lady in full chef’s whites. “Can I help you?” She enquired, looking at me disdainfully. “Can I have some food?” I nervously enquired. “Well we don’t open until 10.30” (it was 9.45am). She saw my look of disappointment. “What would you like?” she enquired. “What can you cook?” I shot back. “Bacon & Eggs okay?” she asked. “Definitely!” “Ok then, just sit down there (indicating the not so flash plastic outdoor furniture). Would you like coffee?”

Result! 15 minutes later the bacon, eggs, toast, hashbrowns and flat white were disappearing at emergency speed. As well as shovelling it down I was able to do the usual backpack sortie, removal of thermal layer and adding sunscreen and MP3 player.

Rolling out of Moana, music in my ears, it was going to be a good day. Caught up to & rode with a couple of touring cyclists, who hailed from Auckland (of all places). They had stayed at Moana and were only going as far as Reefton today, so a short day for them. As I got to the intersection with the main road I bade them farewell – they were riding a lot slower than me and even though the conversation was good, I wanted to push on beyond Reefton to Springs Junction for the evening.

I turned out onto the main road, away from Greymouth. Road sign gave the distance to Greymouth as only 14km. I was committed now.

I stayed on the main road all the way to Reefton, bypassing some of the more scenic backcountry roads (uphill & down) and bypassing Big River/Waiuta tracks.

Reefton – not that inspiring. Best eating to be found was the pub. Workingman’s breakfast (my second feed of bacon & eggs that day –  a large one  too, with the addition of 2 sausages and baked beans). Talked to Sandra & Mum, then it was off to the 4 Square to resupply, knowing I would be getting to Springs Junction later that evening and that selection there would be sparse.  4 Square & it’s rival Supervalue were the most uninspiring stores I have been in. Selection of snack food was woeful! Stocked up as best I could, then rode on towards Springs Junction, passing the reasonable looking campground as I left town.

Pretty soon I hit the beech forest – very pretty! The road undulated, then started to climb through the forest. I was back “on route” again and it was very scenic, travelling at the slower pace of a bicycle. The first bit of this ride was hard, mainly because I had definitely exceeded the daily intake of bacon & eggs! I’d have to switch to something else at my next cafe stop, as the very thought of bacon & eggs made me feel sick.

I’d almost been able to tell what the time was by what traffic was on the road and how cold I got. By 5.30pm the campervans had stopped coming and I was seeing company cars with nicely dressed people inside – reps for some company or other, heading back to Reefton or Greymouth for the night. Sunnies off, jacket on and into the haul up a long climb. Not that steep, just long at the time of day when long climbs aren’t particularly welcome. I did welcome the descent down the other side though – longer and steeper. Woohoo!

Suddenly there’s a tiny amount of flat road and there in front of me is Springs Junction. YES! I did a quick lap of the town – a sign for a Motel that did not exist, a closed up cafe, an equally closed up looking Motel (different name from the sign) and a very closed up (apart from the toilets – left open for the truckies) Petrol Station. That was it. Cold & needing to eat again, I explored a little further, knowing that if I rode on to Maruia the cafe there would be long closed (it was now nearly 7pm). The cafe was definitely closed and the Motel did not even have an office. WTF? Riding around the back of the Motel (past a ‘private property’ sign), I thought I’d pitch the tent on the grass behind the motel (on the private property) and spend the night there. The only thing putting me off this idea was that in the last Brevet, people who did camp there did not get any sleep – it’s an unofficial truckstop, with the big rigs coming & going all night.

I rode past the entry doors of the motel units (around back of Motel). A car outside one unit and...... a bike outside another! A 29er with a rear rack and a GPS mount, no less! I’d caught up!!!

Nervously I knocked on the door of the unit. Oops.... wrong unit! An older guy wearing a towel answered. I tried the unit next door. A surprised looking Peter McKenzie answered, happily agreeing I could be his room-mate for the night.

Turns out I hadn’t really caught up. He was part of a group that had rolled in late last night, after coming out of Big River/Waiuta earlier that day. They spent a fairly uncomfortable night in bivvy bags on the side of the gravel road just up ahead. The group rolled out this morning & left Peter behind. He had killed his brakepads on Big River trail and with no spares, elected to stay put and try and whistle some up. He was on the verge of pulling out of the Brevet. After a shower and dinner (I microwaved my emergency rice – rendering it largely inedible), we popped back outside for a look at Peter’s bike. It was the old Avid vs Shimano problem – he had Avid brakes, I was running Shimano. My spare Shimano pads would not fit Peter’s Avid brakes – the mounting pin is in the wrong place. We also both had the same multi tool – that has an Allen Key that will fit the Shimano pin, but not the oddball sized Avid. So even if Peter got pads from somewhere, he wouldn’t be able to fit them. I suggested he ride with me in the morning on towards Nelson, where he could get new pads (don’t think he has had brake failure before – it is possible to ride on stuffed pads –  it’s just that they are really noisy and not as effective...). Peter checked in with his girlfriend, then elected to pull out (maybe there was more to it than brake fail?)

After walking around in the light rain outside talking on the phone to Warrick, Sandra & Mum (good call on not camping – the morning pack down is not that pleasant with a wet tent), I called it a night & settled down snugly into the spare single bed in the unit.

Oh yes – Peter did have a bonus for me – an MP3 charger that fitted my USB ported MP3. Full battery again – and definitely something I’ll be taking next time!

Kiwi Brevet 2012 - Day 5

Day 5 – Springfield to Jacksons 130km

Up and off, following a TranzRail maintenance crew out of the Hotel just after 7am. There was a cold fog around (I’d used the heater in the cabin the night before), which was now starting to burn off.

I’d thought I’d make fast progress down yet another of Simon’s gravel road detours (This one pretty much paralleled Highway 73) and along to where the hills began. Wrong! There was a slight headwind and the road was false flat (at least that’s what I was telling myself to feel better). Slow progress, right up to the start of the hills.

The first hill loomed large – up I went. It went on and on – welcome to the Southern Alps, I thought. I walked a section, then rode some more. Traffic was light, so it was easy to hear vehicles coming and make sure I was out of the way (in places there wasn’t any shoulder to ride on). Up and up I went, not too stressed now – I was actually starting to enjoy this hill!

The descent down the other side wasn’t long, then the road undulated. Already I could see I was going to be in for the BEST day to ride through Arthur’s Pass. Blue sky everywhere! Magic! Had a snack stop at a reserve near some lake (name escapes me) where there were a couple of cycle tourists camping.

Flock Hill appeared 5 minutes after I had begun to mourn my lack of the morning coffee (black coffee is hideous, but in its place I was drinking Cadbury Drinking Chocolate, which I could drink minus milk, so the opportunity for ‘real’ coffee was always welcome). The Cafe sign said “Open”, luring me in with promises of a  caffeine-fuelled eating binge. Sadly, it wasn’t to be – the place was deserted. Instead I rode back onto the highway & spent the next little while admiring the rock formations of Castle Hill. Think there is good climbing to be had there, was tempted to have a look...

I spied a rest area overlooking another lake (name escapes me again). Good place for a caffeine-less eating binge, removal of thermal top and application of sunscreen. It started to affect me a little, realising that I was a good 24 hours behind everyone else on Brevet and unless I did something like a couple of 200km+ days back to back, it would remain that way. Resuming, it wasn’t long before my mind drifted to Sandra & the great adventures we have shared in the South Island. The blue sky, sunshine & stunning scenery made me miss her all the more. I began to mull over options of what to do. I realised that this was day 5 and I had only covered 400 and something kilometres, too bloody slow! At this rate it would be the middle of next week before I finished. I did not want to be away that long!

I kept riding, going over what I should do. Withdraw from the event & catch a bus from Greymouth? Take a massive shortcut? Turn around and ride back to Christchurch? (I didn’t feel like riding up to Blenheim from Christchurch via SH1, so dismissed that one pretty quick). Trouble was, I was actually enjoying the riding and the adventure, just missed having some company every now & then.

Unbidden, a vision came into my mind. I won’t say here what it was, only that it related to my past and was not that pleasant.

That was it. I stopped. Let it go.

After a little while I looked up. I made up my mind that I was going to get back to Blenheim under my own steam, no matter what.

As I started to ride again, I rationalised what had just happened. The vision is part of something that has changed in me - something I now feel I should explore and then understand. I also decided to skip some sections of the course in favour of the road, as the trails were most likely for me going to be un-rideable for me anyway. Sandra’s texts using info from the KB website had confirmed others had struggled on the singletrack sections. I’d follow the route as closely as possible, but miss the much touted Big River/Waiuta and Porika Tracks in favor of the longer (but quicker) road.

The opportunity to mix up events was too great to ignore – Klondyke Corner appeared. It’s normally a DOC campsite (slightly off SH73 and with decent camping close to the river), but for a few days is transformed into a mini village for the Coast to Coast Race (it’s the transition from Mountain Run to kayak and also the overnight camp for the two day event). With the event on in a few days time, preparations were well underway. Still feeling down, I ate a biscuit, then dug the MP3 player out of my bag. It’s used all the time when I am on the windtrainer in my garage to while away hours spent going nowhere, but I had never used it on the road, let alone a major highway. However, I needed some way to stop the dark thoughts, so on it went. I figured that Arthurs Pass Village was only 14km up the road, so I could remove it then if it wasn’t good.

Resuming again, I thought the music was helping (I’d set the volume low enough to hear traffic noise, yet loud enough to still get a good sound at normal riding pace). By Arthur’s Pass village I KNEW the music was helping. Rolling into the village with The Ramones track ‘Sedated’ in my ears, I couldn’t help but have an experimental singsong. “Twenty twenty twenty four hours to go, I wanna be sedated. Nothing to do nowhere to go, I wanna be sedated. Just get me to the airport, put me on a plane, hurry, hurry, hurry, before I go insane. I can’t control my fingers, I can’t control my brain, oh no, oh, oh, oh...”

Oh dear. That might have been a bit loud. People outside the cafe were looking at me as I rode up & dismounted – taking my helmet, gloves and bag in with me, as there were 2 Keas already mischievously eyeing up the adventure playground that was my loaded bike.

 I sat in the cafe not feeling anything, just numb. No more tears, can’t cry anymore. Didn’t feel like eating much – managed a couple of sandwiches, a caramel-like slice (actually really yummy), a crème egg (that tasted of nothing) and two coffees. I called Sandra & talked about things. She supported what I had decided – and had reached the same conclusion herself. After the compulsory Kea photos and snack food purchases, it was time to roll on.

For some reason I thought I had 2 huge hills still to come – Porters and Arthurs Passes, so was mentally doing a bit of math over when I would arrive in Jacksons and whether I could push onwards for a bit after that. Earphones in, it wasn’t long before I rolled up a series of hills to see the sign saying Arthurs Pass Summit. WOOHOO! That was easy! Still dreading the BIG Porters Pass, I continued, until I saw the Otira Viaduct lookout turnoff. Even though it was on a side road, uphill, off I went for a look.

At the lookout I talked to a couple who were in their campervan. Mrs Tourist looked disappointed when I told her I was not doing Coast to Coast. The viaduct looked impressive, so it was down the lookout hill to ride this thing.

What a blast! I took it really easy, knowing that it was a looong downhill. Just before the rock shelter over the road I managed to stop (making my brakes even hotter in the process) and squeeze off a photo. Looking back, I could see 2 campervans approaching. Thought I would let them past and resume with empty road behind me. They got a good 400 metres or so ahead before I resumed the descent. Not long after, I let go of the brakes. My speed rocketed from 45kph to 72kph, before I realised that the campervans were looming large in front. No problems, months of Auckland commuting had prepared me for this – sitting firmly in the middle of the road I overtook one and nearly the other. Don’t know if the driver was impressed! It was several kilometres later when he finally re-passed me.

A few minor hills later and I had the distinct feeling that Porters Pass was a mythical beast that I may have already crossed. The valley I was in just kept opening up in front of me and when I saw a sign saying a few km to Jacksons, I knew I’d done it.

Jacksons Pub looked old (it is) and a bit non-descript (it’s actually really nice inside), so I took a photo outside before rolling the last 2 km to the flash Jacksons Retreat Campground – my chosen overnight spot. I felt that Blackball 50km away was out of reach today (did not want to push too far into the evening after the Wharfedale horror show) and with nothing much in between decided to stop and make the most of the glorious evening sunshine.

Good decision! Fantastic camp & super friendly owner, who reckoned I’d made good time from Springfield (it was now 5.30pm).  Reasonable amount of supplies in his office/shop there too, so bought the now familiar can of peaches for breakfast the next day.

The camp owner warned me the pub kitchen closed at 6.30pm on weekdays, so if I wanted dinner, I’d better be quick. I pitched tent in the sun on the grass in the area above the office, took a 5 minute breather, then rode back to the pub.

What a find! I was the only customer, so had the full attention of the owner – a Maori lady who was probably about 60. Fantastic feed of fish & chips, with a couple of beers to wash it all down. Sat outside under the covered verandah at the front of the pub, while demolishing the food at emergency speed and listening to the pub owner’s tales. Turns out she originated in Rotorua, before moving to Howick (before the Chinese did), then buying the Pub at Jacksons. Some very funny stories about her life on the Coast!

With a full tummy and a smile on my face I left the pub and went back to camp. Extra smiley because I discovered from the huge map on the pub wall inside that the big hill I rode first thing this morning was Porters Pass. Wasn’t that bad, really!

Made full use of the magnificent bathroom facilities for a thorough clean up, before using the computer kiosk at the camp to email Sandra & Mum my day’s update (no mobile coverage here) and check the KB website.

Bedtime soon after, feeling happy - not only with the evenings events, but also with the decision made during that awful time earlier in the day. Weka wandering camp, so made sure I had left nothing loose lying around outside.

Kiwi Brevet 2012 - Day 4

Day 4 – Wharfedale Track to Springfield

This was a day of survival tests. First up, who would survive – me or the sandflies? It was a close contest for a while (in fact the sandflies were winning at one point), but I managed to brew a hot chocolate, eat a can of peaches and pack everything back onto the bike without losing too much blood. I was feeling really down, very lonely and missing my girls at home heaps.

At least I could see where to cross the river and after once more repeating the de-shoeing and re-shoeing process I was underway.

The lesson here is just get wet feet. 200 metres later, another river crossing, then a swamp, then another crossing – all before getting onto the track proper. So my sodden, muddy shoes and I continued. The track (for me anyway) was almost completely un-rideable. I think the 1.6km to the hut was about the best bit (until the very end piece).

At the hut I stopped for a nosey. Not much, just the hut & a long drop. Water needs to be from the river (no water at hut).

Continuing, the track got worse. Large roots, rocks, holes and muddy bits were the order here. At one point I could only ride 20 metres at a time, before having to dismount to lift the bike over the next obstacle. Some obstacles included little gullies – areas were the track just fell away, resuming on the other side. Did a little bit of damage inside one shoulder in my effort to get bike and gear down then up a 2 metre deep monster, that also had rocks and roots in it (just to make it interesting). I had several meltdowns on this section. I knew it was grade 4, so anticipated some gnarly bits, but not a track I would struggle to even go tramping on! I had to keep going. My original idea was to get the Wharfedale done in the morning, then tackle the ride over Arthurs Pass in the afternoon/evening. How naive! At one point I thought I was wasting too much time getting on my bike, only to get off it 1 minute later that I just gave up and started pushing. A slow march out of this nightmare.

Track signs told me how far I still had to go. Track goes from the hut up to a saddle, then down, then undulates before a final descent.  About 14km in total, from the hut to carpark.. Even walking with the bike was hard. I definitely had too much weight on board, the bike was too ungainly – lifting up/down and around was very hard work.

I had thought after the summit I could ride more – wrong! I did manage a quick couple of kilometres with only one or two dismounts, then it was back to the slow trudge again. Another couple of huge obstacles and I knew I didn’t have far to go. What would end first? Me or the track? Wharfedale track has no suitable camping spots and the whole forest hums with far too many wasps, so it is not a place to linger. Even answering the call of nature is hazardous!

Had one final meltdown when I arsed over on a wet section of boardwalk, then suddenly the sign saying 2km to the carpark. YAY! There is a reasonably flat grassed area at this end for any future camping activities. No water or toilet though.

The road down to the valley below was steep, rough and contained (closed) gates. The return back to civilisation couldn’t come soon enough.

At the main road, I called Sandra. I let it out – I couldn’t help it. I was filthy, completely exhausted and an emotional wreck, but she gave me the encouragement I so desperately needed at that point.

Continuing on to Sheffield was slow but steady work. Over the railway lines & there was Sheffield Pie Shop. (that’s actually about all there is in Sheffield, apart from the public loo at the sports pavilion 1km down the road. Looks like it would be possible to camp there too in a pinch).

It took two goes to get my PIN into the eftpos machine at the pie shop (I just couldn’t push the right buttons on the keypad) and while the lady was bagging my purchases I had already made significant progress in eating one pie at emergency speed.

I sat outside, ate, phoned, resupplied & rested. People turned up. Some looked like they felt sorry for me, others looked horrified. I looked a mess – I was a mess.

I decided to move on to Springfield, 10km along one of Simon’s gravel backroads. There I could hopefully purchase dinner & breakfast supplies, before maybe getting to Flock Hill Station as my evening campsite.

The slow surface of the gravel and my lethargic legs meant I took a while to cover that 10km. It was after 5pm when I got to Springfield. There’s a bit here  - the cafe/shop has most supplies, but closes at 5ish. I was the last customer there, while they were mopping the floors. The dodgy named motel/backpackers is dodgy & the upmarket motel is true to looks. After being assured by a local that Flock Hill Station (accommodation/cafe) was 40km away over Porter’s Pass and doing a quick internet search to confirm this (yay for mobile phone internet!), I realised I was probably better to stay put for the night & get an early start over Arthur’s Pass tomorrow.

Springfield pub – a good old kiwi country pub was my haven for the night. Hiring one of their port-a-cabins gave me space. The shower was in the hotel part upstairs & was a bit grotty – but at least it was a shower and the locals were – well – locals. Bloody good! Once again into the recovery tights where I sat shivering (it wasn’t that cold – it was just exhaustion) in the dining room – good old pub grub (steak, egg, chips & beer). Recharge the phone, recharge the light batteries, call Sandra, call Mum, repack things, then bed.