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.
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