Only just having returned to live in New Zealand five years ago, I was a far less experienced bikepacker. Even so, on a 4WD trip with my father and uncle I could see the potential for riding up, across and down the Rock and Pillar Range. It only took me all that time of Christmas holidays down south to make it happen. With an actual good day of weather, New Year’s Eve from Naseby was the go.

The day was forecast fine and still; which, considering the wind of four days before, was a boon. Parking at Patearoa, the first twenty clicks was gentle. I found another small hydro station that I didn’t know existed and some old gold mining relics. Approaching Styx, the Old Dunstan Trail reared ahead of me. It’s a steep climb, I relish it – this time was easier as I didn’t already have hundreds of kilometres in my legs.

Just seeing that ribbon of road winding up brings back memories of bikepacking with Adele and a big day on the Great Southern Brevet.

Soon one is looking over the valley to Rough Ridge.

Ah yes, old schist fence posts standing sentinel over the languid Upper Taieri.

By now, the steepest of the climbing is over – 600 m in ten kilometres – just over an hour with very little traffic (three vehicles) and the road undulates a bit.

Logan Burn Reservoir, and more power generation.

My memory was good enough to spot the faint track turning off north and onto the Rock and Pillars proper. A small group of daywalkers (four of the human variety, two canine) were the only mammalian life I saw for hours. We chatted briefly, but I had far further to go so continue I did. On the stillest of days, the track was bone dry – picking an easy path was a cinch climbing up to McPhee’s Rock.

I couldn’t believe how calm it was up there, what an absolute cracker of a day. An hour off the road, I was at the summit.

Over the Dunstans to the Southern Alps; I didn’t or couldn’t contemplate that the next day visibility would be negligible due to smoke from across the Tasman.

Summit lunch break; I wonder now that I had bothered to strap a jacket to my bike, likely I’d just left it on. No chance of needing it that day.

Are those the Rocks or the Pillars?

Not a fast surface, but rather easy going.

Soon, I was at the top of the big descent off the range – dropping well over a thousand metres in ten kilometres. I let some air out of my tyres. On a fully rigid bike on a rough track it was an exciting ride. Jumping over water bars was particularly fun, but done with some caution. I bumped around, brakes squealing, all the while trying to appreciate the slightly different view that would open up at each switchback.

East across the hills which I’d ridden four days prior.

South east over Middlemarch.

Obviously not the track I was on, but similar in topography.

Getting down towards the Taieri now, after it had looped around the northern end of the range.

Pausing in the shade of a tree, under the watchful gaze of a local flock, I was surprised just how soft my tyres had got – re-inflation was definitely needed for the rail trail section approaching. A twenty kilometre detour to Middlemarch seemed a bit far to go for a cafe, so I headed north for an hour passing a few approaching gravel bikes to reach the disappointment of the Otago Central Rail Trail – Hyde. Still no water to be found here, much less any sort of welcome.

I wasn’t keen to completely retrace my rail trail route from Friday past, so as the late afternoon began to warm I diverted west at Daisybank to follow a paper road over the lower, northern reaches of the range. By now it over 30ºC and I was starting to cook and having to ration water. Baking in the sun, the route was covered in long grass – it was far easier to push my bike to gain three hundred metres to the crest.

The road corridor was wide, but the sheep hadn’t been in for quite some time.

Now out of water, the downhill to Patearoa must be soon. Rather, things flattened out past the old gold works of Hamilton Diggings. Finally I found a big artesian bore to fill my bottles and treat some water, bliss. The downhill that had to be around somewhere eventuated and continuing to bake, I got back to the car somewhat worse for wear. New Year’s Eve was subdued for a few hours back in Naseby while I rested and recovered, but I quickly bounced back to my normal quiet self.

A fantastic ride on a gloriously still and clear day (cooking oneself not withstanding) – a satisfying way to round out my biggest year yet on bikes, a aesthetically pleasing 11222 km logged. Not too bad considering I took little holiday from a full-time job; I really do like having bikes as such a big part of my everyday life – if that’s not patently obvious already.

Needing to get over to Naseby for the following day’s kayaking-race trip (not mine), I could have borrowed a motor vehicle. But I had a perfectly good bike for the hundred-plus kilometre journey. Add a gravel road that I remember kindly, despite or because of the many hills, and the excesses of Christmas celebrations – I was hardly not going to ride.
Ramrock Rd was familiar from my first summer back in NZ, now five years prior (where did that go?!), and I was keen to reacquaint myself with it. Naturally, there was but a few farm vehicles on the road and soon the hills started in earnest after the drop down to Bucklands Crossing. I knew it was hilly, but was surprised to find I’d ascended a thousand metres within the first twenty kilometres. Thankfully it flattened out a little, undulating between five and six hundred metres above the Pacific as I enjoyed the solitude and pastoral views. Further afield there were hills, bigger ranges, Waikouaiti itself and the ocean.

Previous map studying had piqued my interest with plenty of dead-end gravel roads and many unformed legal roads begging for exploring. Another time, I had somewhere to be.

Dropping down past Nenthorn before turning north.

Pausing for a late lunch, I contemplated roads-new-to-me ahead – much gravel.

I was pleased to see that road’s name was for real. None the wiser to the origins, I still ponder. Was there a small diary and poultry farm? Seems fitting for a Pheasant.

Reaching seal, I turned right to check out Macraes where brother-in-law James (the kayaker, coincidentally) is ably employed in finding more gold to add to the five million ounces that has already come out of various holes in the ground. Alas, the pub was closed so no more lunch for me. Heading west out of the village, it was quite the grovel into the wind and up a steep hill over to Hyde. To my delight, at the summit there was a gravel road off to the right that took a much longer and interesting route looping around through sheep farms, providing an unexpected view of the pit and a thrilling descent into the wind.

I got a good view of the Rock & Pillars over the Taieri valley. As strong as the wind was for me, I was very pleased not to be up there – it’s notorious, and I’d had more than enough of almost being blown off Central Otago ranges for one year.

Over the river, I was soon at Hyde – where the shop/cafe is very much still shut. I arranged for James to pick me up in Waipiata as that coincided with his drive home from work nicely. It also coincided much less pleasantly with a howling headwind – as is often the case, a little excursion of mine on the Otago Central Rail trail involved a concerted, character-building, struggle against the wind. James arrived a minute or two before me, and most unbelievably of all the closures of the day – the Waipiata pub was shut (we assume for the annual local rodeo) and there were no famous pies to be had.
Excellent little day ride over many hills, some new roads and under big skies. Sure beats driving.