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.
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