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.

Kiwi Brevet 2012 - Day 3

Day 3 – Hanmer to Wharfedale Track 133km (approx)

For some unknown reason I slept longer than I should have – had been feeling quite lethargic in the mornings for a couple of weeks (everything catching up with me?) and this morning was no exception. At 9.15am I presented myself and the broken bike to the shop owner – a nice guy. Their main bike related business is rentals, not repairs, so the workshop was spartan and messy. He settled into his work though (covering his light tan coloured pants in muck from my derailleur in the process – bonus Fly Buys points for him when his wife saw those). No amount of force by hand or spanner would un-jam the derailleur. Into the vice it went. Out came the hammer. It was fairly large. I closed my eyes.... A few whacks later, I had a derailleur that pointed where it should. Reassembly took a while – the derailleur was twisted & the hanger bent as well. I had another eye closing moment as things were forced back into alignment. Amazingly though, it worked. “Let’s clean that chain’ the guy says. ‘Awesome!’ I reply, thinking he would whip out one of those nice on-the-bike chain cleaners. Nup – it was out to the waiting waterblaster, where the whole back end of the bike was subjected to a, well, blasting. After 30 seconds I convinced him that the chain was now clean (even if he’d succeeded in covering the rest of the bike in a fine film of muck from the chain). Back to the workshop and 2 turns of the barrel adjuster later I had a very smooth & responsive drivetrain again.

After a silent prayer to the gods of all things mechanical, I left Hanmer at 10.45. Holding my breath with every shift, I was soon past the point of yesterday’s failure and into unknown territory.

It didn’t take long until I put the hammer down – on a mission to make up the lost time. Culverden was a great cafe stop and my final resupply before the Wharfedale. I ripped past Hurunui (in hindsight I should have stopped to eat at the hotel/cafe there too) before the gravel roads to MacDonald Downs took over. Actually great camping could be had along some of these roads, as they have wide, flat & grassy verges.

Sandra had sent a text (relayed from the Brevet website) saying ‘watch for wrong left turn at MacDonald Downs.’ I had heard from Sandra some guys had navigational issues here. The cue sheet said ‘turn Right onto ‘Clark Hall Rd’ and there I was staring at a sign that said ‘MacDonald Downs’ with no road name. My instinct told me to turn, but I was scared that it was just a farm track entrance, not the ‘road’ we were supposed to be on. Ended up going up and over a dirty great hill before finding the mystery ‘Clark Hall Rd” (it was signposted as the correct name). So I rode onto the road as the Cue Sheet instructed. The road ended at 2 farm workers houses. Backtrack to the actual MacDonald Downs turnoff, losing 45 minutes in the process. The difficulty here was that I’d found the Cue Sheet distances & my odometer were sometimes up to 2km out, hence my decision to ride on & look for ‘Clark Hall Rd’.

Oh yes – the wrong left turn in the text was actually a RIGHT turn. Confusing all round.

MacDonald Downs was lovely – good surface that undulated, with only a couple of walking hills. Scattered sheep everywhere – they leapt like lemmings off and over banks as me and my noisy Hope hub approached (actually the hub worked well at moving any stragglers – just freewheel & a noise like a large angry rattlesnake does the trick). Navigation was easy & it wasn’t too long before I was out – now determined to make it at least to Wharfedale Hut for the night.

Turns out that was a bit optimistic – first I had to contend with a valley that had gates across the road every 200 metres (all closed of course!) and a very very slow surface before finally making it over some small hills into Lees Valley. The run through there was great – a fast surface and cruising at 32kph, fantastic! All I needed to do was count down the km until the turning to Wharfedale Track.

Again I made a navigational error – sailing past the sign for the track (it was actually signposted as Thompsons Track, so I wouldn’t have turned anyway). I went another 4km on, over a bridge and up (you guessed it) another dirty great hill before realising I’d screwed up. As luck would have it, a car came by (the first in a long time). I flagged it down, to be told Wharfedale Track was actually back the way I had come. Turn around, at least it’s a descent. Twilight now, oh dear. Get to signpost for Thompson’s Track and have a ‘WTF’ moment. As luck would have it, another passing car – confirming that this was, indeed, the mystical and magical joy that is the Wharfedale Track. Struggle like crazy to get bike over a stile (the gut feeling that I had too much weight was now correct) as I had to unload the front to get it over. Reload, realise that a) the sandflies are bad, b) that I REALLY need to eat VERY soon, c) I am almost completely out of water and d) it is suddenly getting dark.

The first bit of the Wharfedale Track actually follows a 4wd track over, around and through farmland & a river bed. Lights fitted & Kennett Bros map in hand, I set out, get lost at the ‘emergency access’ sign, find where I am at, realise I need to cross the river, de-shoe, (no wet shoes for me – ha!) cross, re-shoe and ride.

Realising that I am nowhere near the hut and I now need to eat VERY VERY soon, I start looking for a camp site. Find a great one – on the other side of a swampy bit of ground I’d just crossed through (proud to not get shoes muddy – fool!) and that I’d need to re-cross to get water from the river (no muddy feet for me – big fool!).

Ride on, track isn’t the best. Cross river, re-cross river, de-shoeing and re-shoeing each time. Realise I’m in trouble and the hut is definitely out of the question for the night. Look for campsite that is not a) on a swamp, b) on a whole bunch of rocks, c) next to beehives, or d) any combination of these factors,  I run out of track at another river crossing. This time the gravel & rocky bank is very wide and I can’t see the crossing point. Nor can I pick up where the track is on the other side. Realise the safest thing to do is wait until morning, so backtrack a bit and find a reasonable spot to set up the tent. Fetch water from the river (causing great anxiety at home – I was still wearing my backpack with the SPOT in it – so my tracks were all over the place) and finally settle in at 11pm (ish) with a hot pot of rice for dinner.

Kiwi Brevet Day 2

Day 2 – Molesworth Cobb Cottage to Hanmer Springs 85 + 9km

Ranger had kindly agreed to open the gate for us at 6am, which meant people were up & at ‘em at 5. I tried to sleep a bit longer (I am on holiday after all!) but gave up soon after. Ate breakfast with Paul & others at table, Paul’s lighter had conked, so no hot baked beans for him. We were entertained watching Paul shovel in a pile of cold baked beans, chew briefly, then vomit them back up into the nearby bushes (think Paul also had heat-stroke). I managed to get down 95% of my BackCountry Apple Pie, leaving the remainder.

Had a failure of my own – gas canister would not re-seal when I unscrewed from stove. Gas everywhere! I dumped canister outside tent where it continued to splutter & fart every now & again. I didn’t want to take it with me, so waited until the last rider had left before unceremoniously dumping it into the bushes (naughty! – but at least I didn’t put it in the long drop...)

Rolling along it wasn’t long before the climb up Ward’s Pass loomed. It actually wasn’t that bad when compared to Heartbreak Hill yesterday & I found myself at the top pretty quickly. The Tandem Boys and another rider were halfway down the other side, so after quick photos & a video diary, on I went, to my surprise catching the tandem boys at the bottom where they had stopped for food & water.

Isolated Flat is, well, isolated and flat. The Tandem Boys steamed past just as I started up the next big hill, leaving me on my own again. After that hill it was fairly smooth going, slightly downhill(ish) and a reasonably quick surface.

Somewhere in the middle of all this a 4WD club loomed large – about 20 of these beasts steaming past in the middle of the road, creating a huge amount of dust and without even slowing. I stopped after the first one had covered me in dust & headed about 50 metres away from the road, where I snacked & let the dust settle. Soon after I was stung on my tummy by a bee that had somehow got inside my top. It flipping hurt!

Acheron accommodation house & campsite appeared just I was becoming discouraged – finally, I was getting out of this! Snacks, water changeover & I was off, hoping for a fast run into Hanmer, as lunch was calling. Water needs to be treated at this campsite. Horrible surface & a cold headwind made the run into Hanmer a bleak one. From the Jollies Pass turnoff I was playing ‘are we there yet?’ in my mind as the climb up took ages. Jollies descent was steeper & far rougher than I had expected. About half way down I stopped in a lay-by to let my brakes cool (I was braking lots) and noticed my SPOT was missing. Noooooo!! Nothing else to do but start to walk back up the hill (it was under the webbing on the front where I could see it, but had fallen off during the rough descent). About 500m up the road, a 4WD approached – they had found the SPOT – saved!! Secured it in the front pouch of my backpack this time (it sat there happily for the rest of the trip).

Hanmer was good – it was easy to spot the best cafe & 4 Square – just look for the bikes. Freezing southerly wind though, so it was a cold wait for the all day breakfast I’d ordered. A trip to 4 Square & reloading of the backpack & bags & I was off – again as tail-end Charlie (I thought) and with the goal of an overnight stop at Hurunui 50km away.

Leaving Hanmer I was in good spirits – the light drizzle had stopped, the wind wasn’t as biting and I had warmed up in my jacket. 9km out from Hanmer I downshifted as I climbed the hills toward the main bridge out of town and the rear derailleur exploded – turning 180 degrees on itself, jamming solidly in the process and breaking the joining link in the chain. F.....! Assessing the damage on the side of the road I tried to un-jam the derailleur – no joy – locked solid. A quick phone call to Sandra to get number for Hamner Bike shop (it was 4.30pm). Bike shop kindly drove out in a van and after confirming the derailleur needed more than roadside assistance, I was shuttled back to town. Unfortunately the store was closing – it was just the boy & offsider, so they had to follow orders from the owner & close. Nothing for it but to return at 8.30am the next day, when the owner would be in & he could fix it (or sell me a low grade replacement – that was all they had).

A sense of relief overtook me as I sat woefully on the steps of the by now closed bike shop. I’d been feeling a bit down, missing Sandra & Emma a lot and bewildered by how fast everyone was. After the string of problems during the day, maybe this was the culmination and now everything would be okay. I chatted to a couple of locals who confirmed that this was Hanmer’s one & only bike shop, so there was nothing for it but to remove and bag the broken chain and start the walk to the campground 1.5km from town.

At the campground I ended up talking with a guy in his 70’s who was still (road) club racing until a year ago – amazing! It really made me appreciate the universal language that is the love for the bicycle. Maybe this was indeed what Brevet was all about..... that mix of circumstance, people and places. It was with a sense of peace that I pitched the tent, then set to getting myself and gear cleaned up –  after 2 hot & dusty days things were already a mess. The washing machine and dryer were put to good use (note that flowing soap from the toilet block is a perfectly acceptable washing machine powder substitute).

I did feel a bit odd walking back into town in my jacket, compression recovery tights, bike shorts & bike shoes, but it was all I had. Burger & Chips were enjoyed al fresco, before the walk back to camp.

Clean, happy & formulating a cunning plan for an emergency derailleur fix in case mine could not be repaired, I drifted slowly to sleep.

Kiwi Brevet 2012 - Day 1

Day 1 – Blenheim to Molesworth Cobb Cottage 121km

The day began at 6am in the Motel with a quick and nervous breakfast, followed up with a quick packdown of the stuff I wasn’t using into the bike box, which the Motel had kindly agreed to store for me until I returned.

Top Town Cinema (where the briefing was being held) took a bit of finding – I was rather relieved to see I wasn’t the only late arrival (7.20am, supposed to be 7am). Found Simon & claimed my Spot Tracker - all good. Lots of people who obviously knew each other, then there were a few like me who didn’t know anyone else & were just sitting quietly waiting for briefing to get underway.

The briefing was, well, brief and informal. That made me feel better. After figuring out the SPOT tracker I linked up with the other Aucklander, Paul Becker for the ride to Seymour Square. I found a good cafe on the way & stopped for sandwiches and coffee as a second breakfast, also to add more sandwiches to the already overstuffed backpack I was carrying.

Seymour Square – this is it!! Nervous anticipation, mixed with the relaxed banter of the guys who had done it before. An amazing array of bikes – some with creative DIY attachments as the rider had sought to overcome the logistical challenge of carrying sufficient food, water & supplies.

Photo call from Simon, a quick countdown and we were off! Led by Simon in a ‘controlled start’, we were off round the streets to Blenheim, before taking to the cycleway through the park and out of town.

At the top of Taylor’s Pass (anything with the word ‘Pass’ in it meant a lot of climbing), Simon pulled over and managed to photo most of us as we went past – we were now on our own, free to ride at our own pace.

What a pace it was – I quickly found myself near the tail end of the field – a bit of a shock I guess, as I’m usually mid pack in other races. A quick photo, food and nature stop after Taylor’s Pass descent and I was at the rear of the field, with only Paul for company.

The ride up the Awatere Valley was pleasant enough, but it was getting both steeper and warmer. At some point I rode away from Paul, only to have him haul past me again when I stopped for food. Think I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the whole thing and also had a sneaking suspicion I had too much weight on board the bike.

The serious climbing started around the 35km mark. By now I was counting down to the ‘clean water’ stop at around 50km. At a small flat spot on one particular hill, there it was – lovely mountain stream. A lot of the other riders had stopped & were eating in the shade. By the time I’d half finished the first sandwich, 90% of them had left. The other 10% followed soon after, leaving me feeling a little lonely.

Telling myself ‘that they’ll start coming backwards to me as they blow up/burn out’ I kept going. A few more stops and sure enough, I started seeing a few people again - although then I’d need to stop for food, so I’d lose them again.

Heartbreak Hill (there is always one) happened late afternoon & was the most significant climb of the day. At the bottom of the hill there was a Farmer & crew doing fencing, then the hill just stretched straight past them into the distance. It wasn’t long before I started walking, catching up to other riders doing the same.

Some time after I passed a guy not looking very well in some shade at the side of the road. He waved me on, just suffering a bit from heat. (note to self – there is plenty of water in the river that we follow for a bit – MIOX it & you’re fine. Only carry 4 litres not 5!)

“Molesworth 10km’ read the sign. Woohoo! Hmmm. 14.5 km later I rolled into the Cobb Cottage camp. Paul & others had set up at one end, so I pitched tent next to them on some lush grass, found the river for wash & quickly got into the eat, hydrate, get ready for tomorrow, sleep mode that would become normal over the course of the next week. Paul did a great job of quickly orienting me around the campsite, so I was able to settle down to dinner with the others quickly. The guy who I had seen under tree rolled in, to a round of applause from us. Ranger came by and sat with us for a chat -  great guy – they get  cars going over banks, motorcyclists falling off, a lot of 4WD club people being inconsiderate with their vehicles, they first aid a lot of cyclists for heat stroke & gravel rash & they’ve had 2 heart attack victims already this year. Water is drinkable here without treatment, and the DOC longdrop is well cleaned & cared for (and that was the toilet report).

Bed around 8.45ish, as it got dark.

To Post, or not to Post?

When I originally set up this blog, I had the intention of creating a living document, somewhere that I could share my stories with those who have been supporters of my efforts, family members and friends.

After completing Kiwi Brevet back in February 2012, it was apparent that my experience during that event affected the very core of my being. Returning to work, I tried to focus, but could not. I began to write about my experience, in time after work. Reviewing that document, I realised that it was different to most other blog posts you see from Mountain Bikers - it was a deeply personal account of what happened out there.

Since writing that account of Kiwi Brevet, I have constantly thought about whether it would (or should) always remain private, or whether I should share. With the passing of a number of months, I feel I should publish the account - to achieve my original aim of informing, entertaining - and in some ways to say thanks to those who offer their support and guidance.

I guess it is like a lot of things I do - challenging myself, trying something new, being a bit... different.