Bikes were wrestled onto the top deck to take us across Manapouri to West Arm. Predictably in these times, there were few passengers. We cooked sitting on the starboard side indoors, it was far more pleasant on the open deck above to take in the lake and surrounding mountains – we just had to forgo the interesting commentary.

Easy going!

Over there somewhere.

Plenty of sweet beaches if one was out in a boat – which many were on this public holiday.

A little teaser of what the afternoon had in hold.

Somehow our original plan of spending the afternoon heading up Wilmot Pass, and possibly dropping to Doubtful Sound, before returning to West Arm for the night in a hut completely went out the window. I was rather looking forward to ditching some gear for a big climb and descent to somewhere new, and eating a lot of the food I was carrying. It’s a pity that one can no longer go down and tour the Manapouri Power Station deep below the earth (thankfully we did it as a family when I was much younger), there wasn’t even enough time to geek out reading all the displays in the visitor centre, hmmm. Still, the afternoon promised new places and challenges.

The skipper gave us helpful tips of finding the start of the pylon road. As warned, it was steep at the bottom and with neither my load lighter or my blood back to normal I was soon walking. The lush bush provided good shade, nonetheless it was still warm. Soon everyone was out of sight, not to be seen for a long time. A bit miffed at this change in dynamic, I switched to solo-bikepacking mode and took in the ever-changing and expanding view at a sedentary pace, pausing a fair bit. What a place! I couldn’t even resent the pylons and HV lines in most views – they were the only reason there was a road here for us to explore.

After a significant snack stop, I rounded a corner to find Andy and Rachel filling bottles at the last notable creek before the road clung to a rock face for some time. Nice to have some company again. We could just see Debbie far above.

Rachel heading for some rock fall debris – easily negotiated on foot.

Back down to West Arm, a small section of the road up.

Quickly up a few switchbacks.

Oh yay, I wasn’t the only one walking.

A bit of a plateau before the final climb to the saddle, lovely up here.

Peering over the precipice.

Bit of a problem here. The topography between the pylons we were standing at and those closest in the photo above is so steep that the two pylon roads were never joined to form one road. So we had the six hundred metre gap to close, with two hundred metres to drop.

Grade 5 Expert. Expert hike-a-bike, that is.

Would have been nicer just to stay and admire the scenery, roll back down to the boat and sail across the lake. But, no.

The first half was exposed sidling around a steep, rocky bank and then above a sketchy looking scree slope. I’m only now perturbed that I was encouraged to lead off down the precipitous slope. Did I look more like a mountain goat or a scape/sacrificial goat? This section was more of the reason I was slightly put out that I’d not had the chance to eat a lot of my food overnight, as per the stated plan. Extra weight through all of this was going to be tiring. Nothing for it, but to sling my saddlebag over my shoulder and hoist bike while picking my way down.

None of it was particularly easy going, but only one section caused a big pause – a big step down right above the scree. It was negotiated with difficulty, a bit of a bum slide, but safely enough. The faint path went around the top of the scree onto more stable ground.

Yeah, I said “faint path”. Spot the marker; at least it was marked by the local MTB club, would be very useful in worse weather – which I hope I don’t experience here.

Over the edge of the scree.

Almost safely in the bush for the second half of the descent.

After forty-five minutes it was a relief to get away from the exposure and into the bush. That was short-lived, although while safer, it was far harder and slower going in the trees. Cue an hour of wrestling a loaded bike over and under fallen trees, down and occasionally up the slope. Big pins on flat pedals were both a blessing and a curse – at times hindering forward progress, and at other times stopping the bike tumbling down onto rocks or trees below. My saddlebag made a good habit of swinging around beside me and getting in the way, the strap chafing my shoulder well.

After another three-quarters of an hour of this I could feel the fatigue starting to settle in. How much more was there? The others were close behind, or so I thought, as I could hear them clearly through the dense bush having their own struggles with bikes, trees, rocks and the gradient. An hour and three quarters after leaving the pass, blessed sight, I popped out of the bush to the roughest of clearings and the pylon we’d been working towards for so long (so near…) towering above. Relief. I may have kissed the ground. Definitely the hardest hike-a-bike I’ve done, possibly the stupidest place I taken a bike. Can’t wait to return lightly loaded and with a trail bike. It’s spectacular up there.

Maybe the others were a bit further behind. They heard my shouts of joy and relief clearly, but it was another fifteen minutes before they all emerged. Seemingly working as a group was even slower, plenty of tales of both pedals getting hung up on trees as both wheels simultaneously got jammed.

Rachel negotiating one last rocky step down.

A photo that gives some idea how steep it was, rare indeed.

After a decent break to collect ourselves, the rest of the big downhill! This would have to be one of the steepest service roads I’ve seen. So. Much. Fun! Really loose in places, there was also some very chunky rocks to keep the surface sketchy on bikepacking tyres. I loved bouncing down, getting close to the edge, pausing to take in new aspects of the view – and wait for the others. By the accounts I heard, walking at times sounded far harder than riding.

Thankfully we were following the left lines, not climbing up to those pylons on the right.

Waiting at a hairpin.

From said hairpin, Rachel’s photo.

Down at Percy Stream, there was water to stock up on (obviously) while waiting, before a little rise and the most pleasant roll through beech forest down the Grebe valley to the South Arm of Manapouri and the campsite for the night. A late dinner was cooked on the lakeshore, a thoroughly pleasant end to an excellent afternoon challenge. I think we were all satisfied to see the back of the Percy Saddle bike-carry, but thrilled at the terrain we’d travelled through – new to all of us. What a ripper.

Andy’s footage of the day does a fair better job of showing the climb, carrying and landscape than all this.

I got wind of a long-planned Southern Special the previous month on Andy’s fantastic Conservation Area Loop. The concept was pretty standard with not much new to me, save for the carrot of getting down to Fiordland and hauling our bikes over Percy Saddle. Plans morphed over the intervening weeks and I realise now there are still places to show Andy that he’s not ridden yet – another time. Rachel already had the time off work and other plans fell through, so last month’s trio was back together. I determined to carry more gear, food and be more comfortable at camp so as to slow down a bit, in the hope of turning it into a more relaxed tour.

Originally I was disappointed the day we were due to depart became a travel day (admittedly I had far less distance to travel), but this turned into a blessing as that Friday was bleak – cold, wet and very grey. There was even flooding in Clyde as we met at Mark’s barn and extensive bike workshop – thanks Mark for the facilities! Debbie was a late addition for the first few days, having recently picked Scott up from the Tour Te Waipounamu finish and itching for an adventure of her own with a few days left off work – Scott happy to continue resting while pootling around in their camper.

Over a large curry, shades of GSB21, we reversed the proposed loop – avoiding the top of the Pisa Range at the tail end of the current storm – instead opting for the Nevis Valley first up, not quite as high and exposed. Saturday morning rolled around and packing was completed at the last minute – I didn’t quite fill my big saddlebag, but it was close. Unusually I packed a tent, along with extra clothes, a stove, much fuel and food for days away from shops; I was sure to be markedly slowed. I was wary of the plan to ride all the way to Mossburn the next day, was a bit more than I was expecting from this trip – but kept quiet as, weirdly, we seemed to be riding to a schedule.

Down to the river trail, we were soon on the Dunstan Gorge Trail. Funny, it was many months before I got to ride this and now here I was for the second time in a month. The bleak, cool morning did at least mean it was deserted. With a light southerly, this spectacularly engineered trail was even easier riding than last time. We didn’t even meet Rambo this time, although I was still getting good mileage retelling the story of his attack on Tom’s bike. The coffee-boat wasn’t even open it was such a dull day.

The more traditional coffee cart at a vineyard short of Bannockburn was open, so we did get a welcome morning tea stop before heading for the Nevis and up Duffers Saddle. Away from the zero-elevation gain riding beside Lake Dunstan, I quickly found myself falling well behind the others. In overloading my bike, I’d failed to consider having had another pint of blood taken less than two days earlier. Perhaps with only one of those factors in play I’d have been ok, but both were a bit much. With reduced hemoglobin, things weren’t quite firing. Oh well, at least my iron levels are down near the target now – that’s got to be good in the long run.

I continued plodding, somehow not getting off and walking. Not walking was better than the only other time I’ve climbed Duffers from this side – but that was a day of being almost-blown off the top of the Pisas and this saddle on GSB19 (which I maintain is the toughest event I’ve done).

Up and away from Lake Dunstan and Bannockburn.

Into the cloud at the summit.

Unsure if Andy’s face or the weather is more grim – one clearly a reflection of the other.

Time to layer up for the big downhill, such fun, to the Nevis Valley and the long gradual climb to its headwaters.

Brighter down there!

There started a few hours of toil into the nagging southerly. Plenty of streams to cross and opportunities to get water. It’s a vast valley and there’s much to look at with little bits of history and farming besides the fascinating landscape. Still feeling flat, I was pleased Andy did a lot of the work into the wind – far more effective when someone my size is the next largest in the group! My pedals, with a new service kit recently installed, ominously started squeaking – pretty rubbish really, even with the stream crossings.

Climbing out of Otago, these are now Southland hills.

Finally we were at the top of the 800 m drop to Garston. Fine views down and across the next valley, even in the gloom. Still the old Garston Ski Hut seemed a perfectly good place to call it a day ten hours and a hundred kilometres in. I don’t think that was only due to fond GSB21 memories, it’s a great spot and a quaint old hut.

Can’t complain about this downhill though; more GSB memories of an incredible late summer evening climb.

Down on the flat, it was fifty kilometres of flat riding to Mossburn. Well into the evening now, Rachel thoughtfully phoned the ever-hospitable-to-bikepackers Railway Hotel in Mossburn, booked rooms and ordered steak dinners for us all. Now just to deal with one of the stupidest sections of cycle trail in the country. Two latched gates at each farm crossing with two cattle stops is just ridiculous – someone really stuffed this up in giving the farmer the run around. I think the short section of highway is probably better than this absurdity, I’ll be happy if I never ride it again.

By now my left pedal was starting to seize, which left me trying to arrange to borrow or buy replacements the following morning in Te Anau. That was easier to do on the highway from Five Rivers to Mossburn – the faster and less hazardous route compared to the cycle trail between Lumsden and Mossburn that has power poles in the middle of it! Huzzah, we made it to the pub as the kitchen was closing to complete a long and unusually trying day. An enormous feed and a hot shower helped markedly. There were other bikepackers there too – funnily, the pair that I’d chatted to on top of the Hawkduns while out for a bike and hike at the start of the week.

Leaving the Railway Hotel, a long time since the railway came here.

Off west to Manapouri, there was a bit of less-ridiculous cycle trail to start before we hopped on the highway and I immediately lagged behind again – not having had to eat any of the mass of food I was hauling, due to great hospitality, didn’t help. At least my pedals were behaving better and I slowly gave up on the idea of detouring to Te Anau, deciding to risk them for the next day – knowing there was a fair bit of hike-a-bike anyway. We were all pleased to arrive at the cafe in Manapouri with plenty of time before our boat ride across the lake.

Now you’ve made it through my rambling, here is Andy’s video of the trip – and you don’t even need to wait for more posts to find out the rest.