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Clutha Gold Trail & Wanaka sojourn

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After the exhausting day on the Rail Trail I slept extremely well & reasonably late. More than pleased that I could fix myself porridge as the sun rose on another scorching, but windy, day the morning seemed to be filled with pottering and eating wonderful Central Otago summer fruit that was not in short supply.

Although I wasn’t really feeling like it, I was adamant I should put another decent ride in on successive days – eventually we settled on driving to the Clutha Gold Trail and riding a section out & back. One of the many cycle trail that seem to have sprung from nowhere while I was away for five and a half years as part of the NZ Cycle Trail network, this one runs seventy-three kilometres from Lake Roxburgh to Lawrence – mostly next to or near to the Clutha River. As the name suggests, gold-mining plays an important part in the history around the area – so there is frequent reference to it on the trailside information boards.

As the NWer was still very strong, we drove further south-east so as to start at Miller’s Flat & have the first part of our ride into the wind and have a tail wind on the return leg. Rachel (also house-sitting) was pretty sure she wouldn’t keep up with us, so we separated shortly after leaving Miller’s Flat. Linda pushed a pace that my tired legs and body couldn’t quite keep up with – & that was without all the luggage on my bike, but I fancy my bike was still substantially heavier than a carbon framed 29er. Miserable excuses, I was still tired – but happy to trundle along at my own manageable pace.

A short part of our ride first up was along the quiet road & then beside it on gravel trail until we were down to the riverside – twisting on the wide easy path through the trees.  There were plenty of glimpses of the bright blue-green Clutha making its way to the ocean – it’s NZ’s second biggest river with a very large catchment, so quite a bit of water slowly flowed past.

Amongst the trees, the wind wasn’t so bad & there were plenty of little changes of direction to break it up.  The trail is not as popular as the Rail Trail, but I found it more interesting as there is more greenery around and there is more variety in the trail direction and a few switchbacked climbs – the kind of thing you don’t get when following the path of a former railway.

The second half of the (about) thirty kilometres was more exposed to the strong wind & my speed slowed significantly.  Reaching the trailhead at the Roxburgh Dam (I had no idea that existed) we stopped for a snack and to snap a few pictures before turning and heading for the car – determined to stop at the information boards now that we had a tailwind.

The remains of a dredge that sunk in 1912 – it got over 3300 ounces of gold out of the riverbed between 1902 and 1906.

It was significantly faster returning, even with less effort expended pushing the pedals around – but still about getting a bit late in the afternoon by the time we got back to car to find Rachel patiently waiting and getting a bit cold. Empty bellies called for a good feed of fish ‘n chips in Roxburgh (after the earlier disappointment of Jimmy’s pie shop/bakery being closed on weekends) – the shop seemed to be the local meeting place for a Saturday night with all sorts dropping in. We were strongly encouraged to return the next day and enter a team in the inaugural Cherry Chaos event – which from what I could work out was completing an obstacle course while another team bombarded you with reject cherries, in the spirit of La Tomatina or the orange fight in Ivrea.

With that blasted NW gale sticking around into Sunday, we decided a day off bikes was a good idea; Rachel had organised to visit family in nearby Wanaka, so Linda & I tagged along to spend a few hours at the lakeside town. Somehow, the wind was even stronger there, coming off the lake – we felt sorry for the poor souls competing in a triathlon around the lake-edge. Still, we managed a walk up Mt Iron – where the forecast rain hadn’t quite rolled in & obscured the view – and plenty of delicious gelato and hot chocolates.

Looking west over Lake Wanaka to Mt Aspiring National Park.

South up the Coronet Valley.

East over the lower reaches of the Coronet River – it then flows into the Clutha just after that flows out of Lake Wanaka & is then joined by the Hawea River.

I’m not sure anyone slept all that well Sunday night as the winds reached a whole new level – at one stage the front door blew open, somewhat startling Maddie (the dog). The wind was supposed to change later in the day, but the forecasts were unspecific. I wasn’t keen to battle that again on the Rail Trail and given the choice of riding something new over 220 km that I’d ridden a few days previously – I preferred riding something new. Studying a map, I realised that Lawrence (the other end of the Clutha Gold Trail) is a lot closer to Dunedin than I thought (or not thought – I don’t know if I’d been to Lawrence before). Linda was keen to ride some distance with me, so a plan was hatched: drive back to Miller’s Flat again, ride the Clutha Gold south, stop at Beaumont for lunch, after which Linda would return north to the car & home and I’d carry on the Clutha Gold south to Lawrence & then over the hills hoping to eat & camp near Outram before returning to home the next day…

So that’s basically how it went. Another great thing about the upper reaches of the Clutha Gold is that it’s far from the highway & traffic noise – particularly the Miller’s Flat to Beaumont section. I think the section we did from Miller’s Flat south was my favourite of the whole trail – the only people we saw was a family on holiday in the area when we took a walk down to this restored bridge of a settlement long since gone on Horseshoe Bend (not nearly as impressive as the eponymous section of the Colorado).

The rain started shortly before Beaumont, so the camera stayed squirreled away for the rest of the day.

Escaping the rain we headed for the Beaumont Hotel – a classic NZ rural pub; I first thought that we’d eat in an otherwise empty bar, but they did a quite reasonable trade in the end. I thoroughly enjoyed my first Kiwi whitebait fritter in years, but I still had a long way to go to get to Outram (as well as having no idea just how big the hills were after Lawrence) – so bidding farewell to the pub and then Linda was necessary as the rain continued to fall. My suspicions that there was once a rail line along this valley (based on straight embankments and old bridge piles) were confirmed as signboards became a little more frequent & told me so and I climbed to the longest tunnel (about 400 m) I’d been through during the previous days – being straight, it was by no means the darkest.

The southerly change had come through (bringing the rain) and I worked against that to the end of the trail – thankfully, it wasn’t too strong. This part of the trail was not quite as enjoyable – partly due to the rain, but mostly due to the close proximity of the highway noise for much of it. The easy part of the day was completed at Lawrence and I marked the occasion with a disappointing pie at The Wild Walnut – more a strange triangular pocket of pastry with little meat in it than a proper pie. The rain had stopped as I headed north-east into the hills, hoping I’d make it to Outram by eight o’clock (it was just before four).

Quite soon I was heading up proper steep hills for the first time in days; surrounded by plantation forest, the only traffic was forestry workers heading home for the day in the opposite direction. The rain started again. Soon I was into open farming country, watching tussock slide by and passing the Bungtown Bog Scientific Reserve – what a great name! Previously I’d no idea these hills were even here, they were starkly beautiful in the early evening gloom as the storm rolled in. I continued, frequently dropping steeply & then having to climb again between about 400 and 500 metres above sea level. About the time Lake Mahinerangi (long & skinny – another hydro lake) came into view, the hail started, the temperature dropped and the thunder & lightning started. Although really chilly, I was pretty happy in the rain and quite sure I’d make it to the highway and civilisation again before hypothermia set in.

With another slow steep climb done, I was on the highway (pretty much deserted at that hour on a Monday night) and it almost stopped raining – but not quite. One more longish climb, a screaming downhill and some flat riding later I was in Outram to find the pub kitchen was closed. Damn. I was forced to ride to Mosgiel for dinner – then being so close to Dunedin and all the talk of the storm rolling this far east for the night, camping in a town sounded no fun at all & made little sense; Dad kindly came & picked me up to finish a long, challenging but enjoyable day exploring beautiful places new-to-me.

around home, bikepacking, bikes, family

Rock & Pillar Range Outing

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The Rock & Pillars Range was the destination for a group four-wheel-drive trip organised as a fundraiser for Dad’s local golf club. I was keen to see somewhere new, so happily went along. The meeting point for eight-thirty in the morning was over an hour’s drive away – when I realised there was only going to be three of us in Dad’s 4WD (Dad, my uncle Geoff visiting from Australia & me), there would be room for my bike too. With a pick-up in the morning, bikepacking the day before & camping somewhere overnight before meeting at Clarks Junction seemed perfectly feasible.

This plan also meant that I’d finally get to ride to the end of Ramrock Road (a gravel road that goes through the hills west that I’d ridden down part-way a few times in the previous weeks) and see what was there. After an early lunch & farewelling Adele (off for seven weeks in Canada skiing & ice-climbing in the cold), I set off for Middlemarch (also one terminus of the Otago Central Rail Trail – which I hope to ride as a training ride shortly). A warm, but cloudy, day it was perfect for bikepacking on deserted gravel roads – plenty of hills to conquer and great views added to the enjoyment.

Looking back towards home.

Hills and clouds.

After about three hours, I was at the high point of the day – the biggest challenge having been avoiding the livestock all over the road & trying not to frighten large animals into trampling me as I whizzed downhill to the Nenthorn Valley (which was once a busy gold-mining town – one is advised not to venture too far off the beaten path lest a fall down an old mine shaft brings one to demise). One last steep climb up to Moonlight Road and my fifty-eight kilometres of gravel was over as I cruised down to the Taieri River and stopped for lolly cake (yum – haven’t had that for years!) in Middlemarch.

As it was only late-afternoon, I figured I had plenty of time to make it all the way to Clarks Junction before the pub kitchen closed (the pub is pretty much all there is at the Junction). So I set off along the valley floor, knowing that soon the road would give me much more climbing on the second half of the thirty kilometres. For a State Highway, the road was deserted and few cars passed me in the evening light. Hoorah – the pub was still open; I was the only patron as I devoured a lamb burger and set up my tent, for the first time in months, in the sparse and dated playground.

Monday dawned bright and sunny – I was baking in my tent before seven o’clock. I was pleased that the two days’ weather was this way around – I would not have wanted to bike almost one hundred kilometres under such fierce sun; likewise, heading up the Rock & Pillars would not have been very scenic on a day as cloudy as the one I rode.  As the group assembled – ten vehicles in total – Dad & Geoff arrived with my breakfast and I set about loading my bike & camping gear into the back of Dad’s Suzuki.

After a brief briefing, we all set off up the Old Dunstan Road.  Another deserted gravel road climbing up into the hills, I couldn’t but help think of the bikepacking possibilities of such roads – especially since I could ride from home & seemingly just keep going all over Central Otago.

After steadily climbing up on to a plateau, our first stop of the day was on the shores of the Loganburn Reservoir – where guide-for-the-day John regaled us with local farming and fishing anecdotes.

Photo &

Soon after, our little convoy left the road heading up on to the range on the 4WD track.   The route became more & more rugged as we climbed. With all the other vehicles having substantially more ground clearance & just generally being large 4WDs, the little Suzuki and Dad were working hard to clear and avoid various obstacles – mostly a lot of rocks and big ruts.  We occasionally stopped to regroup, look at the view or find the correct route.

The views opened up, naturally, as we climbed – the reservoir in the centre.

As we got above about a thousand metres above sea-level, the tussock grass got more sparse in places and low herbs and cushion plants became more predominant. At times looking west, we could even see The Remarkables range near Queenstown and Mt Aspiring near Wanaka.

Shortly before noon, we arrived at Big Hut (it was pretty big – there was even a large room seemingly entirely devoted to table-tennis) where we sat outside in the sun and out of the breeze eating our picnic lunch while admiring the view east (I tried to pick out landmarks on the route I followed the previous day) and watching a helicopter ferry the odd tourist up to look around.

There was still more climbing, bouncing and jolting around to be done after lunch as we went past Summit Rock. 4WDing sure is uncomfortable as we bounced around at such low speed. It may be a lot more effort, but I would have much preferred to be on bigger diameter wheels on my mountain-bike avoiding most of the obstacles and at least being able to anticipate the unavoidable ones.

We didn’t stay on the official route for much longer, instead turning off to travel through John’s large sheep farm on the western side of the range. By now Dad had had enough of the challenging route, so I drove down the hill on the better made farm tracks – thankfully I had to concentrate enough that I wasn’t constantly pining for a bike. I also forgot to take any more photos at this point, apologies. Once off the Rock & Pillars, we called in at the pub in the small village of Patearoa. Unfortunately, it was closed – but never mind, John just called the landlady & she came around and opened up just for us; ah, country NZ.

To finish the day, we traversed the northern foothills of the range through more of John’s farm to end up on north of Middlemarch on the highway. I was interested as we crossed the rail trail again near Daisybank, where I may just camp sometime soon. A great day exploring new country – but I’m not convinced sitting in the back of a 4WD, getting covered in dust and generally getting shaken to pieces is for my near-future.

Africa, around home, bikepacking, bikes, Europe, family, friends, London, MTB, NZ, travel, UK

The Christmas Letter 2014

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It’s that time again when I try to remember where the year has gone and what I’ve been doing. Once again it’s been a rather varied year – with only a couple of lows in between numerous highs.

As the closure of the synthetic rubber factory where I worked for almost three years in the south of England loomed, the first half of the year was rather quiet on the travel front as I tried to save money for the approaching unemployment. While I was never too concerned with how I’d cope with losing my job (other adventures & parts of the world beckoned), it turned out to be very difficult seeing the demise of a plant that had been going for over fifty years and about one hundred and thirty people lose their jobs. The last few months after production ceased were particularly tedious – but I enjoyed throwing myself into my study of the Italian language (which I’d started learning at work at the end of 2013).

The exception to the difficult first seven months of the year with little happening (except riding bikes – I was still doing that, of course; the highlight was finally riding the South Downs Way) was May. Mum visited for almost six weeks and Adele was also over for three weeks of that. There were plenty of little trips here & there, as I tried to show Adele a bit of Europe and a holiday that didn’t include some sort of extreme adventure. Highlights were a long weekend with Mum in Barcelona; five days in Paris with both Mum & Adele; a rushed weekend showing London to Adele; taking Adele up to Scotland to visit a friend and do a little bit of hiking; and finally, a fantastic family wedding in Tuscany – with plenty of enjoyable time with extended family, some sightseeing, great food & wine and some hiking in the Chianti hills.

Tweed RunWe came across the Tweed Run in London. It was all rather odd, but looked a lot of fun.

Glasgow – I was pleasantly surprised to be so impressed.

Ben NevisOn top of the UK – most of the way up Ben Nevis was really nice, it was only a little bleak at the top.

San GimignanoBack in San Gimignano.

Work finally finished at the end of July – I promptly moved back to (the ever dependable and hospitable) cousin Trish’s in London the following day and took ten days preparing for three months of bikepacking (backpacking on a bike – minimal luggage carried compared to traditional cycle touring to enable more off-road riding) of west-Europe, with two months touring Italy being the main goal. I had hoped to do a big cycle tour of Europe in 2015 before moving back to NZ, but with work being what it was the timing changed.

In the end I only managed three weeks and two-thousand kilometres of touring, as I found the wet August and mud in Belgium was not much fun – after a week of that I was getting tired of solo-touring. Having said that, there were plenty of good times and highlights – including some of the people I met along the way; visiting a huge old ironworks in the Saarland (sad, I know); my birthday spent in Strasbourg; the Jura mountains (in France, near the Swiss border) and best of all: crossing the Alps into Italy over the same pass my grandfather rode over on his Euro cycle tour sixty-five years before me – that was a very special & memorable day.

All ready to leave.

I quite liked what I saw of Antwerp.

Another night, another forest, another wild-camp-site.

Strasbourg.

On the shores of Lake Geneva.

Pretty happy to be at Great St Bernard Pass – four hours of steady, but rarely difficult, climbing.

I’d organised (about a week beforehand) to stay a week working on a vineyard in the Aosta Valley (the most north-west province of Italy, in the Alps bordering both Monto Bianco & Monto Rosa) – in exchange for my labour, I would get food & board. I enjoyed the food (so much pasta, cheese, wine, grappa & all manner of things from the garden); the work (it was harvest season – so we mostly picked grapes and I learnt to make wine); trying to practice my Italian speaking; mountain scenery & lifestyle; hiking in the Alps; and most of all, the wonderful people I met and got to know. Although I left to see more of Italy, after a day by myself it seemed rather pointless leaving such good friends (& food) to have to worry where I was going to put my tent each night as the autumn weather deteriorated – so I returned to the vineyard. I ended up staying almost four weeks in total.

A day spent looking at Monto Bianco while we hiked.

If I ever got bored of the work in the vines, the scenery was always worth looking at and appreciating.

All of sudden October was free – so I hastily arranged for another visit to East Africa and close friends Adrian & Carmen, as it’s so much easier & cheaper to visit from London than NZ. Biking around Kilimanjaro was fantastic and we went up to Kenya to visit friends – the camping trip was unusual. I’m still not sure what scared me more – camping with ten children under the age of five or the injured lion we had resident in our campsite for much of the weekend.

Our lion friend for the weekend.

Back in England for November, it was a mixture of winter cycle touring saying goodbye to friends & family in the south & south-west and trying to pack my life up to move back to NZ. It was great to see so many people that have been a big part of my life for the last five or so years, sad to say goodbye of course.

As of December, I’m back in NZ – hopefully for good. For now, I’m enjoying the sudden change from northern winter to southern summer (if you think twenty-four hours in a plane counts as sudden), being with family – especially for Christmas, getting plenty of riding in (it’s easily been my biggest year on a bike ever – approaching 7000 km on my mountain-bikes [of which, I now only have one left – the big heavy touring one]), and generally reacquainting myself with life in NZ.

I’ll slowly start looking for a job in the new year, hoping to find one that means I can live in a large town/small city that has easy access to good mountain-biking – I think then there would be a chance I may be able stay still for a while and not spend so much time and money on travelling…

Thanks to all that were along for the ride (literal or figurative) this year – whether providing food, a bed, travel opportunities, quality mountain-bike rides or simply time. Merry Christmas & a great 2015 to all.

Africa, around home, bikepacking, bikes, Canada, combe raiders, Europe, family, friends, London, MTB, national park, roadtrip, snow, travel, UK, USA

Five and a half years

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Well, my bike is packed up in its bag again, most of my possessions were collected yesterday for shipping back to New Zealand and, really, I’m a bit bored of packing. I leave London for NZ – five and a half years to the week after I left to see a little bit of the world – curious if I can settle back in a beautiful country far at the bottom of the globe. At the least, I should get a good summer of riding in. Over dinner with Trish at our favourite local Italian pizzeria the other night, there was plenty to reflect on – many excellent things, only two or three not so great happenings, all memorable.

So excuse me while I try to remember most of them and jot them down for posterity. Naturally I’ll start with the highlights in no particular order, as there are many.

As I delve into the archives, this is proving more difficult to narrow it down than I expected, …

My first port of call was the States – little did I know that would be the first of four visits and about six months in total in the country, it turns out the west is fantastic for scenery and mountain-biking.

A west-USA road-trip with plenty of mountain-biking was always a pipe-dream for when I was in my forties or fifties – thanks to living in Canada & the company of my aunt, Valerie, it became a reality much earlier.

The best biking holiday was my return to Moab last year – fantastic trails, great company & beautiful scenery – click on the photo above to watch the video Megan put together.

I also never intended to visit Africa four times, but somehow that happened. Each of the four safaris were quite different, but all excellent.

But the first one in the Masai Mara was the best.

Seeing the Pyramids on Christmas day was excellent – not very crowded either.

I only briefly went to Asia, on a visit to Turkey:


Gliding over the spectacular landscape of Cappadocia in a hot air balloon is indelibly in my memory.

Five weeks’ vacation almost five years ago in the Canadian Rockies saw me learn to ski, a bit, and then all of a sudden, living in Bow Valley for a year of mountain-biking in the summer and skiing in the winter.


Returning to the UK, I managed to settle into a job that I quite liked – that was, until the rather horrible drawn-out experience of plant closure & many redundancies. It was a good base for travels near & far while it lasted – the long, dry & hot summer of 2013 was especially good with many mountain-biking trips around the south-west. Always good to visit Taunton & also ride with my Somerset riding buddies, the Combe Raiders – whatever the weather.

That summer saw me enter a few biking events too – a six-hour solo (nice trail, but boring riding round & round the same thing for six hours), a couple of marathon events, & culminating in my first multi-day stage event.

That event, as you can probably tell from this photo taken while riding along, was in Africa.

Apart from the redundancy experience already mentioned, only two other notable low-points are worth bringing up. The mugging incident in San Diego the day after I left NZ is still the best if I ever have to tell one story from my travels. The ongoing shoulder dislocation saga was painful in a different way – but after four dislocations I had surgery and it’s been fine ever since.

With all the trips to North America & Africa, I perhaps didn’t see as much of Europe as I originally hoped. But I managed a fair few trips – with Italy being the most visited country, five times now I think. I also loved the time spent living in London wandering around all parts of the city & delving into the history. Due to the demise of work, my bikepacking tour of western Europe was brought forward to this year & shortened (& then shortened even more when I got sick of travelling alone in the August rain & mud).

Straddling the German-Belgian border somewhere.

One of the most pleasing & proud parts of the trip was crossing the Alps over Great Saint Bernard Pass – because my grandfather did the same on a bike sixty-five years ago.

Somehow I ended up spending four weeks living & working on a small vineyard in the north-west of Italy – eating a lot, hiking a bit, making new friends & thoroughly enjoying myself. Learning a second-language, Italian – thanks to work, was something I never thought I’d do – but it turned out I really enjoyed it.

Hiking near Monto Bianco.

Oh, almost forgot the whirlwind two-week trip back to NZ (the only one) for some friends’ wedding, and coincidentally my thirtieth birthday & many celebrations with friends & family all over the country. Hectic, but most enjoyable.

The visit also coincided with my shoulder being declared fit – so after six months of no biking, it was great to be active again – here skiing near Wanaka.

I’ll be back with these fine folks next week – hard to believe we’ll have our first Christmas all together since 2006.

That’ll do for unashamed self-indulgence – thanks to all the family & friends that made all this possible in many different ways (usually providing somewhere to sleep & plenty to eat). Biggest thanks goes to cousin Trish in London for repeatedly opening up her home to this often-vagabond – all this would not have been possible or lasted nearly as long otherwise.