Day 10: Fairlie

Today we were planning to ride up the Dobson valley behind Lake Ohau but unfortunately the farmer refused us permission. Some other group of motorcyclists had spooked thier horses and they were not prepared to gamble. This is why we can’t have nice things, to many dicks on the dance floor. 

So we had to cobble together another plan and ended up doing a pretty reasonable job. We started by having a lazy breakfast at the bakery in Twizel. Not recommended. From there we followed a track for 30km down the Pukaki river. Quite fun but very rough, riding over a million baby head boulders. We followed this down to the confluence with the Tekapo river where we then rode a riverside track for 50km back up to Tekapo. Another billion baby head boulders. We stopped for a coffee en route next to the river. Nice spot. Then onwards. Halfway back we had to cross the Grays River which we thought would be straight forward but it was full of incredible slippery boulders and a soft bottom. Deep enough to drown the bike as well. We got through with wet feet but it wasn’t pretty. 

We came out at the Mt Johns observatory so we popped up for the view and lunch at the cafe. We quickly narrowed it down to just the view. Astronomical prices ( ooh the pun hurts even to type it). A slice of cheesecake cut with a microtome was 15 dollars. So into Tekapo for a bite. 

Dave Lear delighted us after lunch by doing the most spectacular dropping of the bike. It’s hard to know how he did it to be honest. He was climbing on one side and fell off the other with the bike on top of him. There were at least a thousand people watching. He immediately leapt on the bike and rode to the far end of the car park to hide. We hung about a little longer so people could take photos. It’s on several forms of social media if you want to see it. Just google “Dave Lear spectacle Tekapo”. 

The afternoon was filled with some very pleasant scenic gravel road riding around Fairlie. Sold a kidney to pay for dinner and here we are. Tomorrow is a big transport day to Hanmer, the homeward leg has started. 

Day 9: Twizel

Today was all about the riding. That’s what I was thinking to myself with my bum jammed half in and half out the motel window where I was attempting to break in. 

Today was the day we tackled the Awakino saddle, a track that is known to be difficult and more so recently due to slips and washouts. It joins the Mount Buster track in the Oteake conservation reserve to the exit on the northern side near Kurow. We had decided if we didn’t do it this year we would never tackle it and always wonder. 

It certainly delivered in spades. Scenic remote country. The track climbs up a narrow rocky gully where it crisscrosses a stream, eventually crossing the saddle and then descending roughly 1 kilometre over a distance of 5 km. Steep. It crosses scree slopes with big exposure and is generally terrifyingly awesome. The track is almost all covered in loose rock which makes it very tricky to ride both up and down. One washout required a wall ride above a 3m drop into the creek, no mistake zone and also don’t think too much zone. Our little group did really well. Both Dave’s came into this trip with significant injuries and put in a heroic performance. Bernie was epic. He rode at the back, completely within his comfort zone and made sure the rest of us were ok. I just fluttered around and tried to survive. 

It took us 3 hours to travel 20 km. It would have been quicker to walk to be honest but we wouldn’t have had the epic sense of achievement. 8 intact collar bones. Couldn’t ask for more. 

The afternoon was all about incredible big sky scenery. Cresting the Hakataramea pass to see the Southern Alps unveil themselves across the MacKensie basin with Mt Cook head and shoulders above the rest. God’s country. Later as we approached Twizel Lake Pukaki was showing off her absurdly unreal blue waters with the snow streaked mountains in the background. What a lovely day. 

So I was thinking all this as I contorted myself through the window. Dave Mac kindly offered to transfer our laundry to tumble dryer while the other 3 went for a pre supper nerve settling drink. I was particularly thankful as I definitely needed a drink and my riding gear had become a crime against humanity. In his enthusiasm to join us he locked the keys in the motel room. No good deed goes unpunished. 

Day 8: Ranfurly

We left under gloomy skies and light drizzle this morning and yet in no time at all my heart soared. I had placed a waypoint at the start of Gardiners track on the gps which said go left and in 12km we would be there. Dave Lear was navigating with his own system and confidently stated we must go a different way. So we followed him and rode a long way without seeming to get there or in fact anywhere. The longer we rode the happier I was. This is purely because every day I watch my mates every move waiting for them to make a micro error that I can tear apart on the blog. Today it was becoming clear that I wouldn’t have to look for very long as Dave Lear had clearly made a decent navigational cock up and was taking us there via Dunedin. By the time we regrouped I had, with great glee, constructed several hundred words of blog savaging. Anyway, to cut a long story short, Dave was correct and so we do not speak of this again. 

We entered the Papanui Conservation Reserve which lies on the Lammermoor range. This is named after the Lammermuir hills (lambs moor) in southern Scotland. With this essential information we headed onwards. The weather was perfect for traversing anything with “moor” in its name. Bleak, dark moody skies with clouds scudding across and a howling wind flattening the tussock. It was as it should be. We weaved along the hills on a track that forever disappeared in the distance. 

Eventually it did end and we turned north into the old Dunstan Road crossing the Rock and Pillar range where the wind really was howling. I was at the back of the pack and came across Bernie taking some photos of a windswept Loganburn dam. It was only when he didn’t answer on the helmet comms that I realised he was some random fucker who must have wondered why I stopped next to him to chat into my helmet. He had a high viz rain jacket like Bernie but the different bike was a clue. Humiliation meant I didn’t take any photos. 

I eventually caught my mates at the Taieri river and the random dude joined us for a chat. I pretended I had never seen him before. 

He went east and we went west and latched onto the northern part of the Old Dunstan road which is the best bit. Interesting rock features and fun double track. We stopped for a bite at the Poolburn reservoir which is another Lord of the rings site. It was still windy but the sun had come out so we enjoyed the view in the lee of a rock massif until I looked around the back of it and saw the sky was black with an incoming storm. So off we rushed, somehow the rain never came but the clouds delivered mood in spades. 

Oil changed in Ranfurly, ready for Oteake conservation reserve tomorrow and the high mountains of the Hawksdun range. 

Day 7: Lawrence

I have a soft spot for the town of Lawrence. It reminds me of a friend back in South Africa. He is a professor in neurology. A kind, sophisticated and very intelligent man with a great sense of humour. The only thing he has in common with the town is his name. 

Actually that is not fair. Never mind. 

Dave Lear and I walked into the pub which is the only place you can eat. You know the kind of place. Photos of the local rugby team going back two decades. Television showing dog racing. Dude’s with big moustaches and small shorts. 16 ounce beer bottles. Of course the moment we walked in the hubbub silenced and every eye turned towards us. It wasn’t spoken but the message was clear. Gay city soft cocks. Given we both had our little merino tops tied around our waists and and I ordered an orange juice I guess it was understandable. To be fair, with my tight yellow t shirt which is punishing me for ignoring the do not tumble dry instruction and my freshly shaved head I do look a little like a giant penis, which may also influence first impressions. I thought of holding Dave’s hand but it might have been too much. 

To be honest, the locals are very friendly and keen to have a chat. 

Today we rode up the Carricktown track behind Bannockburn to Duffers saddle at the start of the Nevis Valley. From there we climbed up onto the Old Woman range onto the Old Man range and eventually descended into Waikaia in Southland. It was a glorious blue bird day with a gentle breeze blowing, a contrast to the snow and gale that pushed us off the the same track last year. It’s a real fun double track with natural whoops, berms, rock steps and in places lengthy ruts from 4 wheel drive activity. Dirt bike heaven at 1700m. 

I’ve been helping Dave Mac with his cultural competency and I’m pleased to say he’s coming on nicely. We could see the beautiful cloud piercer, Aoraki in the distance. Even from over 100km away it is a thing of majesty. Dave struggled a little with the pronunciation but he was so moved he gave me a veritable dictionary of new words to work with, sadly too lengthy to record here. 

This is the most southern point of our trip. Tomorrow we head over the Lammermoor range on Gardiners track before joining the iconic Old Dunstan Road to head north into Ranfurly. The forecast is for gale north westerlies and rain in exposed places. Can’t wait. 

Day 6: Cromwell

There is a brief window between when I do this blog in the evening and I subsequently go to bed and it takes a special person to exploit that window. We have such a person in our midst. 

Last night I was brushing my teeth when the lights started flickering. No worries because they are not my lights but I note with modest interest that they are also flickering and dimming elsewhere in our unit. It’s my turn to share a room with Dave Mac ( in the interests of not hating each other excessively we tend to rotate who we share with). Apparently me sharing a room with him for a total of 10 weeks in America has not absolved me. Never mind. Dave and I are sharing the master room with him in the double king size bed and me in the little dog basket at his feet. So I go into the room to scratch a little place for myself and find myself walking into a scene from Thunderbirds which some of you may remember. There was the hum of high megawatt energy being shifted and the cause of the flickering, dimming lights was made apparent. Every plug in the room had several multi adapters attached with Dave emptying the grid into his multitude of electronic devices. There were beeping things and humming things. Some easy to understand like a phone and helmet comms. Some less easy to understand such as a power bank that could run Auckland for a couple of days but I suppose there is some logic. Some of the things defy my understanding and for the sake of the children I will go no further. 

I shifted a bank of supercomputers and plugged my phone in to charge and went to sleep. Just as I hit rem sleep I was woken by a cacophony of noise that no person should have to listen to. I looked up to see Dave lit up by his phone with his index finger placed in the centre. Fast asleep. His neck was at such an awkward angle that he was choking himself to death and had just exuded the first rumblings of a death rattle. To be honest I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I try to resuscitate him? I pondered briefly and then did the only reasonable thing. I quietly stripped my bed and went and slept in the lounge. He is still alive. 

This morning we left a slightly less cold Fairlie and ride over the McKenzie pass, down Haldon road to Lake Benmore. Haldon is a long, pretty straight road with deep drifts of gravel. It’s high speed and slightly terrifying because getting off line into the gravel drifts could lead to all sorts of mischief. So concentration required. After that we crossed Black Forest station above Lake Benmore. It’s spectacular high lunar mountains with a backdrop of deep blue lake. Big drop offs and mistakes would be bad so concentration required. Lunch in Omarama followed by a big climb over the Omarama saddle and then a long descent down the west Manuherika River which we cross 25 times. Rocky crossings and reasonably deep water means concentration required. St Bathans for refreshments and over Thompson’s gorge track where we got to witness some impressive manouvering of a large herd of sheep. Bunch of very clever dogs. 

Cromwell and after all that concentration on a backdrop of extremes of heat means that the post ride beer was most appreciated. Time to sleep. 

Day 5: Fairlie

We had a cold start today, 4 degrees in Methven. The bikes complained with particularly mine and Dave Macs starting quite reluctantly. Fair enough. They did get going which is all we ask. DM was also a reluctant starter. After several years we have trained him but every now and then he tries to revert back to old habits and starts suggesting we leave a little later and maybe go into town for a cafe breakfast. Like a dog we have to be firm and consistent ( but still giving love and affection so he doesn’t feel sad) and so we have to shut that kind of talk down because if we give him an inch we will be leaving at 11 and getting in at 9 at night. 

We started the day by heading up the Rakaia gorge on Double Hill Run road which travels to the top of the gorge. The day was perfect and the only word to describe the scenery is majestic. We travelled in silence which I assumed was because we were all reflecting on the aforementioned majesty but in reality it turned out that our helmet comms had dropped out. 

At the top of the gorge we entered Glenfalloch station and followed farm tracks through scrub and across shingle fans. Morning coffee out of a thermos enjoying the view and the peace and then around the corner onto Lake Heron station. We had a brief delay on the way out while Dave Lear got lost in the cattle yards. We could see him circling around and around and following every little track but some how avoiding the twin lane highway out of the farm. During this inspection of the property he studiously ignored his own gps track. Eventually he had exhausted all options to be lost and he decided to join the rest of us who had been in plain view all the time. We will watch him closely from now on. 

A fast deep gravel road out, always enjoyable with the bike waggling about as it looks for lines through the gravel drifts. 

At lunch both Dave’s endeared themselves to me. Almost to the point where I considered not savaging them on the blog. My front light had failed. My solution was denial. Dave Lear is a bit of a thinker and had concluded that I was invisible and the final day of the trip may end in the dark. Between him and Dave Mac they solved the problem and by the end of lunch I had a new, brighter light. This is why I keep them. 

The afternoon was occupied by riding through Orari gorge, a really fun double track route that roughly joins Geraldine to Fairlie through the inland Canterbury mountains. Beautiful. 

Post ride bike maintenance was briefly enlivened by Dave Lear lubricating his rear wheel instead of his chain. We really need to watch that one closely. 

Tomorrow we cross the McKenzie country into Otago. The mountains are waiting.