Sunday, June 6, 2021

Waiheke weekender

After bailing on my dear wife at Easter, it seemed appropriate to follow up soon after with a weekend away together.  

Sarah swooped me up from work on Thursday afternoon, and we had time to run a couple of errands in Kilbirnie before getting rid of our bikes at the oversize desk, and enjoying dinner at the Air NZ lounge.  In our haste to leave to board our flight, I forgot to grab a handful of mints, and had to endure a tough hour masked up.  

We caught a shuttle to our hotel at the top of Queen Street and left our bikes in the bags overnight.  The next morning after breakfast, we assembled them out on the street, and after stowing the bike bags in the luggage room, rolled down the hill to the ferry terminal.  The flow of commuters off the boat from Waiheke reminded us that today, Aucklanders would be going about their business, giving us hope we'd have the island's roads largely to ourselves.


We got changed into our riding gear on the boat, and each carried a small backpack with civvies and a collection of extra riding wear which we were hoping not to need.  In many ways, this is my favourite time of the year to ride - no need to lather sunscreen on, but nor is there need to faff around with highly functional, but otherwise pain-in-the-arse winter riding wear.  

Our overnight accommodation was at a wee hostel in Ostend, and aside from a couple of stops to get some food for lunch, and coffee on board, we made our way straight there.  Having dumped our bags, it was time to start bagging deadends!

Since my Karori caper back in 2014, I've become well and truly addicted to burbing, as it is now known.  It has its downsides, that's for sure - it is very constraining, and an enjoyable ride is very sensitive to careful boundary selection.  Even after carving out an area, it is also difficult to estimate the distance you'll need to ride, so you tend to spend the entire ride second-guessing its feasibility.  On the other hand, you truly do see a place, and there's not been a single ride among the dozens I've now done, where I didn't say "wow", in response to something that a regular ride would never take you past.  

From Ostend, we headed along Sea View Road, before dropping down to Onetangi Beach en route to the start of the Man O' War Bay Road - surely a contender for the coolest road-name in the country.  As per the brochure we'd grabbed from the ferry terminal (including map), it was unsealed from the intersection with Waiheke Road, but great quality, and initially at least, a mellow gradient.  

Initially, at least...

There were few cars on the road, and they were vastly outnumbered by the number of "Private Land" signs we saw, leaving no doubt that visitors were unwelcome.  Even the gate at the end of Stony Batter Road, beyond which was pedestrian access to a WW2 Coastal Defence Fortress, signalled that only pedestrians were welcome.  

At Man O' War Bay, we rode across a foot bridge to a locked jetty, and smashed back a couple of BLT sandwiches each before continuing on our way.

There was an open vineyard cafe in the bay, but we didn't go inside.  Just beyond that was an old church which we were surprised to see was also off limits.  


The climb out of the bay was steep, but there was some nice native bush to admire, and a few kererū hurtling about overhead in their usual glorious fashion.  

The fast section that followed the climb not only was fun to ride, but also gave great views out towards the Coromandel peninsula.   

We poked our noses down one of the rare side roads not marked as private, but while it was shown on the map, it never really felt like we were welcome, and for our nosiness, we were forced to grovel back up to the ridge.  

Soon after, the gravel ended, and we descended to sea level for a quick loop around the wee settlement of Orapiu.  A nice little track above the coast enabled us to connect a couple of deadend roads.  

Two climbs later, we'd completed the big loop we'd started on the Man O' War Road.  I'd been nursing a stroppy rear derailleur, and a couple of attempts to sort it out had been to no avail.  Even though the rollers had been pretty mellow, and sealed to boot, my legs were feeling startlingly smashed - possibly related to compromising on the gear selection and shifting regularity.

On the way down Awaawaroa Road, I noticed a walking track heading in the right direction, so after bagging the deadend, we took a closer look.  There wasn't any "no bikes" signage, and despite the track being too steep to ride up, we thought we'd give it a whirl.  One virtue of the steepness, was that we quickly got great views, and there were even occasional rideable sections.  

Looking down over the Awaawaroa Wetland Reserve

Our hopes that we would be able to ride the downhill were very soon dashed, when we found ourselves staring down a fenceline that was insanely  steep.  In lieu of steps, a rope had been tied to the fence to support anyone foolish enough to come that way.  Figuring backtracking would probably have required walking as well, we picked up our bikes, and started lowering ourselves down the track.

We made the bottom of the track intact, and while there was little riding, most of the time we could push the bikes rather than carry them.

At the far end, we were reminded that the "route requires reasonable fitness"!  Not the most user-friendly bit of signage, and quite the understatement.  Even with the bikes, we'd busted it out in about half the suggested time (45 mins to their 1.5 hours), so that was a win, I suppose.

The service station at Onetangi was a welcome recharge point, though when we resumed riding, we realised that only a sleep was going to help our legs recover from the abuse we'd subjected them to (or more accurately, that I'd...).

I'd hoped to knock off the roads to Rocky Bay and the island's airfield, but the day had really marched on, and so I made do with cleaning up Ostend alone, before joining Sarah back at base.  

One of many houseboats in Anzac Bay

By the time we'd both showered, we were ready for dinner.  Neither of us was inclined to ride any further, so we walked into Ostend for delicious pasta at La Dolce Vita.  

After grabbing some breakfast supplies at Countdown, we enjoyed a sedate stroll back to the hostel, before firing up Netflix and a cup of tea.

Stats:  95km ridden (plus a 23km ferry ride).  2550m climbed!!   


There had been overnight rain, and the skies were still pretty grey when we rolled out towards Rocky Bay.  Consequently, we stayed off the mountain bike tracks at the Onetangi Sports Park, though it was very cool to see that the signage being used there was for the same design that some Massey University students (led by Karl Kane and ably supported by Karl Yager) had made for Makara Peak MTB Park back when I was chairing the Supporters committee.

The climb up to the airfield was pretty stern, although sealed, and we got hit by a few showers, in return for some spectacular rainbow action.

My Pot of Gold and a rainbow

On the return trip, we stopped at the airfield to adjust clothing (yet again), and while parked up, were treated to a great display by a helicopter coming in to land.  Our timing and location could not have been better had we tried!

By the time we'd finished the long, mostly-unsealed deadend out to Woodside Bay, we both had a mud slick up our backsides.  For a while, it seemed like we would get across to Omiha Bay on a bit of singletrack, but all the connections were marked "no bikes" and we were forced up and over the road.  

After a half-decent shortcut between Margaret Reeve and Vintage Lanes, I pushed our luck too far again, and we had a long walk between Te Whau Point and Omiha Bay.  The small consolation was some great scenery, and the occasional bit of riding.  

To our great delight, there was a makeshift cafe running out of the community hall in Omiha Bay, and we were able to scoff back a couple of toasted sandwiches, washed down by smoothies, and for me, a coffee.  Afterwards, I mopped up the last of the roads on my own, netting a new "best letterbox".  The individual on the Kapiti Coast using an old outboard motor is now in second place, behind the repurposed scuba tank on Valley Road - similar scores for novelty, but the effort involved in cutting this puppy deserves some kudos!

Best letterbox in the country?!

By the time we got back to the main road, we'd chewed up almost 4.5 hours, and it was somewhat laughable to think that I'd had some hope of knocking that part of the network off the afternoon prior.  Even without the hike-a-bike, and the much-needed coffee stop, we'd have been lucky to crack it out in under 3 hours.  

The next point of interest was the vehicle ferry terminal at Kennedy Point.  The locals occupying the adjacent beach were clearly not that keen on the proposed marina (though they've since settled with the developer).  From there, we climbed up onto the ridge between Surfdale and Palm Beach, but on the descent, I lost track of Sarah, who as it turned out, had not followed me down a short dead-end.  Thank goodness for cell phones!  We celebrated our reunion with a spot of lunch, before ducking and diving for another few hours.  

Church Bay Road afforded us lovely views across to Auckland, but I started to get the sense that Sarah had had enough.  Unfortunately, there was still a fair bit of road to go, so I suggested she pull the pin and hang out at a watering hole in Oneroa while I mopped up.

She agreed and so I boosted away.  I'd left a few roads between the ferry terminal and our accommodation, which turned out to be a bit of a nuisance, since Sarah decided to go back for the luggage.  

We kept in contact via txt, which was nice, as after dark I started to feel strangely isolated.  Usually I enjoy riding in the dark, and similarly, riding alone.  On the other hand, this unusual riding format sucks when you can't see - partly because it is difficult to keep track of where you have and haven't been, but also because you don't get to enjoy the surroundings.  Anyway, I was brave, kept riding, and arrived at the ferry terminal about half an hour before the next sailing.

There was another group of cyclists waiting for the boat - but the vast majority of those in the queue had clearly been drinking alcohol all day.  As it turned out, there were at least two people in the crowd who'd been celebrating birthdays.  For a somewhat excruciating 10 minutes, their respective friends took turns singing happy birthday to them, each time cranking up the volume ever so slightly from the previous rendition.  As nice as it was to finally be invited to board, the end to the sing-comp was just as welcome.

The sailing was very peaceful in contrast, and once berthed, we had a gentle ride back up Queen Street to our hotel. 

Stats:  141km ridden, and a whopping 3600 metres climbed

* * *

Intotal, we covered about 160-unique-kilometres, which, according to, is only 45% of the island's network.  A good excuse to go back and explore some more of the off-road paths, I suppose!

The format worked surprisingly well - the shuttle to and from the airport dealt well with the bike-bag issue, and the ferry out to the island with a small overnight bag gave us two full days riding over there with a reasonably comfortable evening in between.  

My shifting issue had plagued me throughout, and my legs felt even more wrecked than they would have anyway after 6000+ metres of climbing.  Of course, Oli diagnosed the issue straightway but sorted it out before I had a chance to see the obvious problem that I'd missed - the excess rear derailleur cable had somehow got wedged beside one of the jockey-wheels and was causing issues in the top half of the cassette.

Unfortunately, that is precisely the half that the surprisingly brutal roads of Waiheke Island demand!  The highest point we traversed was not even equivalent to Mt Vic, but in 260km of riding, my total climbing was enough for over 30 ascents of Wellington's quintessential hill.  Don't let that put you off though, just be prepared!

Wednesday, April 14, 2021

Easter Tour on the fat-tyred roadie

Much to Sarah's chagrin, a couple of months ago, I booked an Easter flight to Dunedin with Brendan.  He and I were meant to ride together down there about a year ago, and what better use of the Air NZ credit than to try again.  It wasn't a straight replication though - my 7 day loop was shortened, and Brendan's one-way trip to Queenstown lengthened, to give us five full days' riding together.  

We flew down independently, and once I got clear of my Thursday morning lecture, I headed to the airport early for a bit of a wind-down.  Upon landing in Dunedin, I unpacked my bike before ditching the bag and my travelling clothes in the $5/day luggage room - a great service, and one which I'd love to see replicated everywhere.   About an hour or so later, and a short leg-loosener on some pan-flat roads, I hooked up with Brendan on the main drag in Mosgiel.  After a bite to eat, we headed to our overnight accommodation a few kilometres towards Outram. 

Day 1 - Mosgiel to Alexandra

We awoke fairly early on Good Friday - even though we were on holiday, the first day was planned to be our longest, and better to use available daylight on the bike than in bed.  It was beautiful and warm while we ate, suited up, and packed.  However, about five minutes before roll-out, we could literally feel the air temperature taking a dive as a southerly front passed through.  There wasn't anything to do but rearrange clothing, and get out into it.  

It was a short ride to Outram, where we were hoping to find a second (and better) coffee.  After one pass through town, we doubled-back past the closed café to the 4-Square.  I decided on a pie for second-breakfast, washed down by a coffee.  That done, it was time to get stuck into the sealed climb up to Clarks Junction.  

We'd both ridden the first part of it, having each done a Dunedin round of the Calder Stewart series which finished just shy of our turn off.  As we climbed, it got colder and colder, and we became more exposed to the wind.  At our second stop to add more clothing, I put on my insulated Shake-dry jacket, and finally became comfortable.  Despite the low speed and climbing effort, rain-(and wind)-proof overtrou and cap, gloves, and uninsulated jacket simply hadn't cut it.

When we reached Clarks Junction, we turned onto Old Dunstan Road, and Brendan immediate pulled over to put some warmer clothing on.  The spot he'd chosen was very exposed to the wind, and as I watched him walk through tall wet grass in search of some shelter, I could feel myself cooling, and went back to hide in the lee of an old pub.  He joined me soon after, and was fortunate that in the interim, someone had emerged from the building and offered a room to get changed in.  (We politely declined a seat by the fire, for fear that we would never be ready to leave.)

It sounded like the change into dry gear had come too late for Brendan (he reported being "very cold"), and given my experience waiting in the wind, I feared that things might rapidly turn sour if we stuck to our original plan.  The best option, as I saw it, was to head up the road to Middlemarch, where we would be able to get a hot drink before taking the long way around the Rock and Pillar Range.  It would make for a long day, but at least we would be within cooee of help if we needed it.  Brendan didn't take much convincing!

Both the weather and our bodies had warmed up a tad by the time we made Middlemarch, and large coffees made the world of difference also.  The café was busy, and I thought I recognised a cyclist who'd queued up near our table.  The fella who looked a lot like my colleague Ronnie blanked me initially, but then we sorted things out (it was Ronnie) and had a quick catch up - he'd just finished a 5-day ride of the Rail Trail with friends and family, and I didn't have the heart to tell him we were planning to knock it out before bed time (with an action-packed 60km already under our belts).

Even though the weather was showing signs of perking up, relitigating our earlier call was pointless, and besides, both Brendan and I seemed comfortable with what lay ahead.  We made our way onto the Otago Central Rail Trail, and got underway.  When we were moving, progress was rapid, courtesy of a great tail wind.  But, said wind was still chilly, and we seemed to be constantly fiddling with our attire.  

I'd never ridden the rail trail, and was glad to be ticking it off.  The design was elegant, and the low gradients and gentle curves were testament to the engineers' cunning and attention to detail.  Despite it being the first day of the Easter period, we struck a large number of people nearing the end of their ride - most were on e-bikes, so were only looking despondent on account of the morning's rain, rather than the brisk headwind they were pushing into.  

One of the weirder features of the trail, were regular "planets"

Nearing Ranfurly, the trail started to turn westward, and as a consequence, we started battling the wind for the first time.  I had a bit of a low-patch energy-wise, so was glad to be able to top the tanks up and have a bit of a break in the town.  We would soon be turning fully into the wind, and our open question was to what extent the downhill gradient of the trail would take the edge off it.  Only time would tell.  

The "summit" came soon after a road crossing at Wedderburn, and not long after that we began our push in a south-westerly direction, delighted to find that progress remained very good.  

We passed the most interesting features of the route in the late afternoon, and it wasn't lost on us that most of the riders we'd seen seemed to be having their happy ending at the beginning of their ride.  The area around the Poolburn Gorge - replete with a spectacular viaduct and tunnels - was a particular highlight.

Spectacular viaduct


The last 25km or so into Alexandra were a real treat, partly on account of the beautiful late-afternoon light.  There was masterful design to negotiate the steep drop into Chatto Creek, and on the final kilometres into Alex, our energy levels were such that we weren't tempted off onto various more direct routes into town.   

Reaching for a bidon on the rail trail.  Photo:  Brendan McGrath

We knocked off for the day with just under 210km on the clock - about 60km longer than we'd planned, but better that than coming unstuck on the Old Dunstan Road.  Even though we'd amassed about 2.5 hours of stops along the way, it was nice to arrive without needing lights, and before it got difficult to find dinner!!

Stats:  209km ridden, one bullet dodged

Day 2 - Alexandra to Queenstown

There was no need to rush in the morning, with a relatively short road ride through to Queenstown on the horizon.  For a while, it looked like we may have been able to ride the new Lake Dunstan Trail, but delays had pushed the opening out, unfortunately (now confirmed for Saturday 8 May).  

It was very cold when we set out, and perhaps for that reason, we didn't go out of our way to ride the final 8km of the rail trail into Clyde, preferring to stick with the road.  Half way along the stretch, I was frustrated to remember that we could have crossed the river to ride a second off-road trail between the towns.  In any case, it wouldn't have cut out a decent climb on the highway to a lookout point above Clyde Dam, one of NZ's "Think Big" projects, which occurred around about the time Brendan and I were becoming news-aware.   

Clyde Dam

Despite being along a very flat lake, the highway to Cromwell was arduous, and afforded us frustratingly good views over the to the off-limits cycle trail.  Never mind - it'll keep!

We stopped briefly above the confluence of the Clutha (Mata-au) River coming out of Lake Wanaka, and the Kawarau River draining from Lake Wakatipu.  Signage indicated the old bridge into Cromwell was still in place, about 10m below the lake surface.  We both tried to imagine what it must have been like for the townsfolk to watch their town's infrastructure disappear when the lake was finally formed.  

After crossing the new bridge (several metres above the lake), we peeled off, and were soon ensconced in a lovely wee café in the Heritage Precinct.  I had a couple of cheese rolls (when in Rome, etc...) and a quad-shot bowl flat white, which really did take the edge off the still-chilly air temperature when we got back out into it.


We rode an off-road path (part of the Lake Dunstan Trail) through to the Bannockburn Rd bridge, before rejoining SH6 soon after.  The Easter traffic volume wasn't notable, although the extent of (e-)bike-haulage definitely was.   

"Roaring Meg" was signposted a few kilometres out, and we stopped there to admire her - a small hydro scheme (the second of two being fed by a small man-made lake up in the hills).  

Even the occasional downhill stretches of the highway above the Kawarau River seemed like a lot of effort, and it was hard to know what to put that down to - perhaps the long day prior, or the nasty chip seal, or the cold air, or all of the above?  

At Gibbston, we were finally offered an opportunity to get off the road - onto the furthest extreme of the Queenstown Trail.  Even though we knew we were travelling slower on the unsealed surface, progress seemed better, and markedly so, prompting us to wonder whether it the effect could be solely psychological,  

Google had suggested we turn off onto Chard Road, just prior to the Kawarau bungy bridge.  It seemed a bit counter-intuitive, but there was Queenstown Trail signage to Chard Farm, so we gave it a whirl, only to come to a locked gate 10 minutes or so later.  Forced to back track, at least we got stunning views over the river for our troubles.

The lack of homework bit us again a short while later.  The Queenstown Trail sounded so much like a single trail to Queenstown, and when I followed the route to Arrowtown, I didn't notice Queenstown dropping off the distance markers for a while.  When Brendan alerted me to my mistake, I sensed he was a bit miffed, but we agreed to continue on to Arrowtown. 

A bridge under a bridge, on the Arrow River Bridges Trail

When we did finally arrive there, I organised a couple of chocolate shakes as pennance, and we sat in the sun for a while to partially recharge.  

When we set off, I was keen to drop back down to the trail we should have been on, but Brendan advocated for the road through Arthur's Point.  While I'd ridden this way before, a significant (and of course, unexpected) plus was that we bumped into Jonathan and Julie (organisers of the Tour de France trip back in 2018).  It was very lovely to see them, and funny that had I had my way, I would have been oblivious to them being in the neighbourhood.

The ride finished wonderfully on that front, but also with a scorching descent into town (we agreed that every bike ride should finish like that)!  We settled on an underground pizza joint for dinner.  I deliberately ordered a massive pizza, and managed to avoid eating all of it.  The leftover couple of pieces warranted purchase of a roll of tin-foil on the way back to base.  While I was a bit anxious about having cold pizza against my lower back all morning, but that seemed like a small price to pay for real food for lunch.  

It was the last day of daylight savings, and of course we had a time-sensitive start in the morning - a vigorous debate ensued.  It would have been quite hilarious to listen to two tired but otherwise well-educated, middle-aged men try to work out what exactly was going to happen, but we chased each other round in circles for a long while, pulling in such clues as "spring forward, fall back", an "n/a" for the 2-3am period in Metservice's weather forecast (is it because it doesn't exist, or because it is experienced twice?!), and how long our phones thought it was until the morning's alarms went off.  We did sort it out eventually, but after a comically long discussion, and despite being fairly certain that our phones would sort it all out for us while we slept (they did, as they do every year).

Stats:  112 surprisingly arduous kilometres, and a couple of bad turns

Day 3 - Queenstown to Lumsden

The third day was the one I'd been looking forward to the most.  The reason for all the angst, was that we had booked on the 9am staff boat out to Walter Peak Station - Real Journeys don't seem to advertise this, but at $40 a head (including bikes) it sets you up really well for a good day's riding on the Around the Mountains cycle trail.  

After our meticulous evening's planning, of course we woke at the right time, and were able to get coffee before jumping aboard the boat.  Next time, we'll have to budget time for a second round.   

The TSS Earnslaw was not our boat - that's saved for properly paying customers

Aboard the boat, we were joined aboard by a handful of staff, a couple who were e-biking the TA route and three of their family/friends who were joining them for a few days, and a young couple on MTBs who were going to be camping overnight at Mavora Lakes.   

The ferry ride was spectacular, and I spent most of it up top, enjoying the very fresh air, and fascinating views.  

Helmet done up to keep my hat from flying off!  Photo: Brendan McGrath

At our destination, I was amused by the parking mechanism, with the skipper simply running the boat aground alongside the jetty.  Presumably without doing that, we would have been awkward to offload, and done carefully, surely was cheaper than extending the wharf!

Arriving at Walter Peak Station

A second coffee had evaded us in Queenstown, so when one was available at Walter Peak, we leapt at the chance, despite my suspicion that the coffee machine would need to be warmed up.  There was indeed an agonisingly long wait, but when the coffees finally arrived. they were perfect sculling temperature, and were down the hatches before you could say "fuck, that was a long wait".  

We had an initial battle with the wind, and soon caught the impatient one of the party of five.  He'd given up on his coffee, and was keen to know if we'd had ours.  I felt bad giving him the thumbs-up, but I'm sure he'd have found out from his friends a little later anyway.  

Brendan lost a camera case to the wind before we reached the turn inland at the Von River, but perhaps it was a sacrifice to the wind gods that set us up for a brilliant day.   

Looking up Lake Wakatipu towards a wet Glenorchy

Despite climbing up-valley, the howling westerly wind was now in our favour, and progress was fantastic.  While we were relishing the tailwind, we saw some e-bikers heading towards us, no doubt glad they had pedal assist to help them get down the valley!  

Not a bad spot for an airbnb (unless you need to pop to the dairy)

Eventually we arrived at the base of the only major climb of the day, and our first proper hill since leaving Outram on day 1.  There, Brendan discovered he'd left his second drink bottle back at Walter Peak - while his remaining one has a sophisticated filter mechanism, it isn't designed to be used on the fly.  

At the top of the climb, we had another stop for a bite to eat and some wardrobe adjustment, and when the road crossed a stream soon after, Brendan stopped again to fill his bottle.  From there, we made our towards Mavora Lakes - the gentle climb was more than negated by the scorching tail wind, and about the only thing that slowed us down was the second of the day's fords.  With care, we got through both without getting wet feet, which was welcome.  

Near Mavora Lakes, we skirted around some impressive native forest, before finding a spot out of the wind for lunch - my pizza slid down very well indeed.  Even with the time gained and effort saved by the wind, neither of us was sufficiently keen to ride the dead-end road up to the top lake (apparently a 16km return trip), and even the young couple heading up there didn't sway us.  We all presumed Brendan and I had passed them while they were sitting in one of the many small shelters along the road.  

After lunch, it was a gentle downhill through to our overnight stop at Lumsden.  Factoring in the wind, it felt like we were descending off a mountain!  

We continued on the gravel road for about half the distance, before turning onto a purpose built section of the cycle trail.  This followed a stream, and on occasion, we were treated to a short section into the wind - it was pretty insane, and was hard to imagine what the day would have been like in the opposite direction - we assumed nigh on impossible.    

The ducking and diving began to wear a bit thin, so we were glad when we finally arrived in Mossburn.  There, we stopped at a café for a pick-me-up, before embarking on the final stretch to Lumsden.  For the most part, this consisted of a power-pole slalom adjacent to the main road.  While it did seem preferable to riding on the road, the design was curious, to say the least!

We were booked into the Lumsden Hotel, and we were glad to find they were serving dinner.  I had a mighty fine bit of pork belly, washed down by an ice-cream that I'd cheekily procured from the 4-Square before it had closed at 7pm.  

The wind forecast for the next day was much the same, which was perfect, given that we were continuing eastward.  

Stats:  127km ridden, plus a 12km boat ride

Day 4 - Lumsden to Beaumont

The hotel provided a continental breakfast of sorts, and I supplemented this with some hot-cross buns from the supermarket.  We were ready to roll by 9am, but didn't go far, since the café just down the road had opened up, and were glad to serve us coffee.  There was most of a 1950s Dodge Kingsway inside, which seemed to be serving as the local post office desk, and had been chopped up after entering the building on its side - from the front right, it looked like a full car, but from the back left, it more closely resembled an L-shaped desk.  

The AA map I'd been using for planning indicated a plethora of choice to get to Waikaia, beyond which our route was fairly simple.  I'd randomly chosen roads which were shown as predominantly unsealed, and wouldn't involve too much ducking and diving, nor unnecessary distance.  

After a few minutes on the main road towards Gore, we turned off onto the crunchy stuff for the first time.  The wind was again in our favour, and vigorously so! 

We skirted around Balfour, and a couple of times had crosswind sections which hammered home just how lucky we continued to be with the wind.  We passed a burnt out tractor, which I hoped wasn't a symbolic reflection of how my day would turn out...

On our last gravel section before Waikaia, we passed a number of quirky signs reading "Caution - Road Oiled".  The purpose of the oil seemed obvious - to keep the dust down around houses - but the necessity of the warning seemed less obvious.  I found it hard to imagine any passing motorist benefitting from the alert, but perhaps I was underestimating the local drivers.  

We stopped in at the store in Waikaia - it seemed to be a bit of a one-stop-shop, and was suitably busy.  I had a coffee, and another couple of cheese-rolls, but didn't grab any extra food for later - I already had a ham and egg sandwich precariously bungeed to my saddle bag, and plenty of other riding snacks (one-square-meals that I was hoping not to eat, some honey roasted peanuts, and a bag of froozeballs).  

We left Waikaia on Winding Creek Road, which almost instantly turned to gravel.  There was a neat looking old church perched on a hilltop which I did a quick detour for before rejoining Brendan. 

The road was lovely, and passed a couple of gold mining claims (according to the signage), and a nice tract of native bush - a rarity on our ride up to this point.  The sun was in a lousy position for photographs of the bush, but that didn't stop me from enjoying the sight - simultaneously uplifting and depressing, the latter to think that the entire country would have been like that before people started hoeing into it.

After a short climb, and an even shorter descent, we came to an intersection and our turnoff.  

What could possibly go wrong?!?!

After marvelling at the potential confusion that might arise at this particular intersection, we got out of the wind for a few minutes behind another local oddity - hay bales wrapped in a continuous length of plastic to create massive hay-sausages.  We wondered what sort of machine created them, and imagined some grand contraption eating up hay bales and shitting out a great big plastic wrapped hay-poo.  We may ride like grown men, but in some respects, the boys remain.

After sharing the ham and egg sammy and otherwise recharging, we saddled up again, and after a relatively stern climb, enjoyed a lovely stretch of undulating road through to our next turnoff.  While we stayed on Switzers Road, it became sealed, and not long after tipped up quite savagely.  Once we'd recovered from that, the next unpleasantness was the cold wind up on the tops.

The next section of road network was quite confusing, but givcn we'd mapped it out, it was a simple matter of trusting the GPS course, confident that it would all make sense eventually.  Not that it needed to - so long as it got us there!

An old church on the corner of Monument Road

At Edievale, we turned onto a major road through to Raes Junction.   We'd originally looked for accommodation there, before settling on Beaumont a few kilometres down the road.  After a scorching descent, we discovered that the junction was merely that, and any hopes we'd had of a late coffee stop were dashed.  

A road sign guaranteed to put a smile on any passing cyclist's face

We'd overestimated the scale of Beaumont too - crossing over the Clutha River, only to find the "town" was simply a collection of homes, and that the hotel we'd passed just before the neat one-lane bridge was all that was on offer.  We grabbed a bit of afternoon tea there before checking in to our swanky Mata-au Lodge just down the way.  I'd treated myself by hauling around my Allbirds slip-on shoes, so walked to the hotel for dinner, while Brendan rode.  

I celebrated another great day's riding with a whitebait sammie and a seafood basket.  I even treated myself to a small beer, which slid down very nicely, and satisfied my typical annual alcohol quota.

Dessert was back at base, courtesy of a neat selection of pay-as-you-go goodies on offer there.

Day 5 - Beaumont to Mosgiel

Beaumont lay about two-thirds of the way along the Clutha Gold Trail.  While it looked like we'd missed out on a great section north of Beaumont, riding it would have required quite a detour from Raes Junction to get across the river.  Another bit of local infrastructure that I look forward to returning to.

Lawrence wasn't far away, so we didn't pop into the hotel for coffee, and instead made our way across the river and onto the trail.  For quite a while it ran alongside the highway, but sans lampposts, fortunately.  Eventually it drew away, and we passed through an old rail tunnel.  Towards the middle, there was a shipping container that seemed to be protecting passers-by (passers-under?!) from a nasty looking rock sticking out of a hole in the ceiling.  

Mind your head!

We passed a family having an early picnic in the sun - they looked like they were having a ball, with parents' bikes loaded with gear and giving the relatively young kids a neat bikepacking experience.  I regretted not stopping to tell them what an awesome sight they were.

The trail didn't use the old railway bench often, but the last kilometres into Lawrence were a notable exception.  There's something delightful about a railway lines gentle curves, and aside from being easy on the eye, and kind on the legs, the mathematician in me is full of respect for the talent that has gone into it.

We pulled into the first café I'd seen, only to find that they were only serving counter-food.  I'd already ordered by the time Brendan couldn't, but he made do.  

The day had warmed up nicely while we'd been inside, and a big climb soon after we left town ensured major wardrobe adjustments eventually occurred.  Waipori Road was gravel, but big and wide, no doubt to accommodate the logging trucks servicing the significant pine forest we were passing through.

Our overnight host had warned us about nasty corrugations, and for the most part, he was wrong.  On the other hand, he could have mentioned a deep gully that the road dropped steeply into, before climbing just as sharply back out!

Waipori Road took us up alongside Lake Mahinerangi - created over a century ago when the Waipori River was dammed.  We'd scoped out a couple of options back to Mosgiel.  One was to cross the lake at its midpoint, and ride through Lee Flat before taking a back road loop through Hindon to Outram.  
Instead, we opted for the unsealed route through Waipori Falls.  

The bridge we didn't take

The lake wasn't done with us yet though, and before we started our long descent, we passed a pine block in the process of being logged, and had trucks to contend with for a while.  We managed to avoid one by pulling off the road for a picnic beneath the bridge across the outlet of Loch Luella.  

The next truck was a different story, but at least we got plenty of warning, and could get off the road...

We'd independently mapped the route, and while Brendan's GPS wanted him to turn off down to the dam, mine took us through Waipori Falls "township", and that's the one we went with (while I was slightly disappointed not to have checked out the dam, it isn't completely clear that the through-route existed, or at least, was kosher).  We ignored a turn to the right soon after, though suspected that the trucks were turning off there.

The descent to Waipori Falls was steep, but it was wonderful to be riding through native bush.  The township seemed to be on a loop road marked as private, and we respected the signage.  The falls also were off limits, apparently due to earthquake risk.  But, the detour gave us a great vantage over the first of three small power stations along the road.  

The native bush continued to be awesome, and we were both delighted we'd chosen to come this way.  Strangely, the power stations seemed not to take the shine off the natural amenities, and we got to the bottom of the valley fizzing about the brilliant scenery.

Down on the Taieri Plains at Berwick, it was fascinating how lame the valley we'd just emerged from appeared, belying the beautiful bush and hydro-electric infrastructure that lay within.  

I advocated for a trip to the beach, and we were soon crossing both SH1 and the Taieri River.  There, Brendan filled his bottle, before we tackled Christies Gully Road.  It was absolutely brutal, but perversely, I absolutely loved it.  While I did feel somewhat guilty about inflicting it on Brendan, there was something about muscling up an unsealed road at over 20% gradient!  

Christies Gully Road from the air, the following morning

The savagery didn't last for ever, and what followed was a lovely roller-coaster, which invariably demanded considerable effort, but on which you could enjoy carrying momentum into most uphill sections.  We were rewarded by great views over the ocean.  

While the Tuesday was a university holiday, we expected there to be a bit more signs of life in Brighton.  A café there seemed to have just closed up, but Brendan was able to use the loo there while I waited for the coffees at the adjacent dairy.  Alone, they might not have been worth the trip over the hill, but in combination with the great views of the swells rolling in, it felt like a good choice to come.

Photo:  Brendan McGrath

On the other hand, we did scope out the best exit option, and it turned out to involve less climbing than the route I'd mapped.  Less, but still plenty, and by the time we reached the top of McMaster Road, and got our first glimpse of Mosgiel, we were both ready to call it a day!

That we did soon after, and within the nick of time for Brendan, who otherwise would have had to replace his rear tube on account of a whopping thorn he'd picked up on the descent.  

We were right on the edge of town, but there was a nice restaurant within walking distance - fitting to celebrate a tour well done.  

Stats:  110-glorious-kilometres, and countless "wow" moments

* * *

I was up and ready the next morning before Brendan had emerged from his room, so took a slightly convoluted route to the airport on my own.  Brendan had left soon after but took a direct route, and was well underway with his bike-packing when I arrived.  

Within the hour we were both taking full advantage of Air NZ's lounge buffet, and not long after that, jetting back to Wellington.  We sat apart, which meant we were each independently able to start processing the five wonderful days of riding we'd shared.  Just about everything had gone perfectly, and the few issues we'd had to resolve only served to make it feel like a real adventure.  

We'd forged our friendship on race bikes, but I think we're both pretty happy to be doing this now. And, I expect we're far from done.