As a plan, bothering to find a room for the night after a tiring day works much better when one actually sleeps. Alas, I did not for whatever reason – probably having too many anticipatory thoughts about riding bikes over the coming week. So many unknowns and adventures to be had! Pete and Nathan left just after four, I managed to carry my bike down the stairs and ride off into the dark just after half-past. Southwest out of Omarama for an hour, past the sentient centre-pivot irrigators blinking in the darkness, it was a gradual climb to the end of the flat pasture and the foot of the hills. An early start did at least claw back most of the distance I had hoped to ride the previous night.

Well made four-wheel drive track led the way up to Little Omarama Saddle (which paradoxically is higher than Omarama Saddle), but it was steep. Uncharacteristically, I quickly relented to pushing my bike – perhaps knowing that a fourteen percent climb rising almost seven hundred metres would not be the only steep ascent of the day, let alone the week.

The sun started to hit the basin from which I’d steeply left – the track across the bottom of the frame.

Short sections, I managed to ride – but otherwise it was a pleasant morning walk with my bike up a hill looking out over the surrounding farms, tussock-clad hills and mountains.

Finally, the high point came into view and I crossed from Canterbury to Otago.

Just after seven o’clock at the summit, it was fresh – I was pleased I didn’t sleep up there as one of the riders did. It was a rollicking, and chilly, descent with a couple of dozen stream crossings to soak one’s feet with cool water. It wasn’t the only time that week that I thought having front suspension might have been a good idea. Shortly after the only crossing that was too deep and swift for me to ride, Jake and Steve caught up with me. They had left town later, but were clearly faster than me. Chatting a bit, I then let them go – often catching up to them at the many closed gates.

Things flattened out and opened up a bit and we joined the eastern branch of the Manuherikia River.

The bridge over the river had long since been washed out, but picking the right spot it was easy enough to ride through.

Briefly we were on the gravel road that I rode with family only three weeks before. We passed our picnic spot and turned off to Falls Dam; the dilapidated fishing huts beside the reservoir were the gateway to the short, but steeply up and down, trail to the dam.

Looking over the overflow intake to the Hawkdun Range, our route enters the frame from the left.

A short section of nice gravel took us down to the St Bathans road and then up to briefly join the deserted highway. With Jake & Steve playing leapfrog with me, we raced down to Oteruha and the Otago Central Rail Trail. Being nine o’clock on a Sunday morning, I was not surprised to find no stores open; I was somewhat surprised to have caught up to Pete though. We set off on the rail trail together. That hour of the day is well before the hoards of tourists on rented bikes are up riding – so we could ride side by side, chat and make good time to Omakau to ensure we got one of the famous pies before they sold out.

Admiring the clouds as we headed into Lauder.

After the early start, an early lunch was in order – and one really can’t go past the venison pies in Omakau. We caught up with a few other riders, including Muurtle Turtle who had ridden out to meet riders from Alexandra. Stocking up at the store fortified us for the steep climb Pete and I knew was coming. Unfortunately we were about to turn towards the wind that had been rather kind to us all morning. Racecourse Road north out of town gave us ten kilometres to get our legs going again. Then the steepness hit – but at least more of it was rideable than the previous climb that day.

I’d ridden this part of the route just after Christmas a year prior, and was quite looking forward to seeing it again. It didn’t disappoint, although I took far fewer photos – knowing I already had them. Once again, there were far too many closed gates – this time annoyingly on a public road. At least with Pete, and then Steve & Jake catching up, one did not have to do all the gate-duty.

The wind started to get up as we climbed out of the valley that’s in the middle of Thomson Gorge Road. It became a bit concerning that it was easier to walk into the wind, rather than ride up the climb. Then, being such a lightweight, I was blown off my bike. That was unusual. I became more circumspect after that. Finally we reached the summit and began the long downhill to the Lindis River. With the wind howling up towards us, I was still more cautious than normal.

Unfortunately Pete got stuck in a rut and came a cropper, crashing and splitting his lip rather well. It looked like it needed stitches, but there wasn’t much chance of that out there. With the bleeding halted, Pete was good to keep riding, although we did take a half hour rest once we were close to the river.

I well remembered the gravel road and then highway towards Wanaka being interminable. In the headwind, it was horrendous; the holiday traffic wasn’t much better either. Eventually we joined the singletrack beside the Clutha for the final thirty kilometres to Wanaka. We feared that this would be just as testing, but as the trail twisted and turned, rose and fell, besides the river the wind was far more manageable.

First trail angel! Delicious cookies left out for GSB riders just before Albertown.

We’d decided earlier to call it a day in Wanaka so Pete could get medical attention. I also figured the wind may abate for a while in the early hours of the next day. Topping up on food for the next day, we set off for some excellent southern hospitality. A longer day than I’d had for a while, I was well pleased with how it went – two decent climbs, but apart from that it was pretty flat and gave a taster of the wind to come.

With my arm in a sling after the magpie fiasco and dealing with the disappointment of not being able to attempt to ride over the Snowies from Canberra to Melbourne, I suddenly realised that the Great Southern Brevet would be a good replacement ride and something to look forward to. A 1100 kilometre bikepacking event near and around Central Otago, I could do that with a month off the bike, and then Christmas, for preparation. Surely?!

When I did my first bikepacking event four years earlier, the GSB was the other option. But in comparison to other events, it flies further under the radar and information is harder to come by – so I chose to start with the Kiwi Brevet. The GSB had stayed in buried in the back of my mind ever since, waiting for the timing to be right – finally it was, so I was excited to turn up in Tekapo and discover the half of the course I’d not ridden previously. After having now completed both of those brevets, I’m glad I did it that way around.

Ten o’clock was the very gentlemanly start time – it seems such a waste of daylight when one is eager to get going. But it does give ample time for meeting fellow riders over a leisurely cafe breakfast. More so than other events I’ve done, everyone seemed to know plenty of other riders and there were many returning riders. I was surprised to meet people from other events and have people remark on this little blog, and commiserate about the magpie incident. After a large breakfast, it was down to the start to crowd out the throng of tourists, listen to the briefing, make last minute adjustments to bikes and kit before rolling out.

At the start earlier.

With no real lead-up of biking, I was happy to drift further and further back in the field as we headed out of town. By the time we were on the gravel I was tailend charlie and finally getting to meet Keith who had recently kitted me out with his Robo-Kiwi creations. We caught up to Pierre alongside the canal. Pierre’s bike had caught my eye earlier – over twenty years old, twenty-six inch wheels, rim brakes, original unserviced forks (!); it certainly was a leap back in time. Kudos.

Dropping down to the wide river basin, we had over forty kilometres of gravel track to ease us into the route. Well, one thought so – however, despite the gradual downhill, the surface was more bumpy river stones packed into something resembling a hard surface. Constantly battling the round rocks to keep momentum was not the most fun. But on the other hand, the wind was behind us, the clouds hadn’t burst yet and the company was good. It turns out the GSB every two years is about Pierre’s only bikepacking that he gets to do (more kudos) and he had plenty of entertaining stories and handy pointers from past rides. Already at this point of the ride, I was becoming keen to return – the route changes each time, although this one was a repeat of the 2017 route as that year severe weather (snowstorms on the Pisa Range, flooding and washed out bridges in the Nevis Valley) meant it was curtailed.

Looking back north.

Heading south to the northern reaches of Lake Benmore.

Having followed the Tekapo River most of the day, finally we crossed it as it emptied into the Pukaki – which soon ended in the lake.

We caught up to other riders hiding from the sun, these guys were far more disgruntled with the surface – so I wasn’t displeased as they departed with their negativity while I snacked. I was surprised to learn later in the day that it was well over 30ºC that afternoon – with the breeze, it didn’t feel that way. For a change, I managed to break my habit of dehydrating myself on the first day of such events. Maybe I’m slowly learning something about this bikepacking lark?

Joining gravel roads for a bit, we skirted around the head of the lake.

Organiser extraordinaire Dave had gained permission for us to ride through private land, this took us away from the lake and up into the hills to eventually drop into the Waitaki Valley.

I caught up to some others – more people to chat to; first days are fun like that.

As the climbing intensified I found myself alone enjoying the ascent, new scenery and the warmth. The surface was far more rideable too since leaving the rivers behind. Having spent a bit of time around Benmore in years gone, I’d never been up the northern arm.

The pylons rise from NZ’s largest hydro station, starting the HVDC link to the North Island. The rain finally started about here too.

There was some fairly decent climbing around the lake; nothing huge – but it seemed to keep coming more than one expected. Finally I descended to the dam for the last little run to Otematata and resupply. Once upon a time, my parents had a small house here – it was strange to revisit.

Thankfully the store was still open, unfortunately it was a rather average store (no pies, inconceivable!). As I was leaving, four others rolled in just before closing time. I took off in the rain up the hill towards Omarama. Expectedly, that stretch of highway is tedious in the reverse direction – Adele and I rode it a couple of years earlier on our A2O ride.

Returning to the lake, the trail goes off the road and it was a pleasant ride up the hill in the drizzle. I saw someone fly past on the road, they must have missed the trail. Going through Sailor’s Cutting for the final run down to Omarama (huzzah, this section is now off the road) was a little less pleasant as the heavens opened and it tipped down. There was quite a congregation of bedraggled riders at the Four-Square buying supplies for the next wilderness section and sharing stories of the day. As the rain pelted down in the early evening, finding a room rather than risk exposure at higher altitude seemed sensible – it was supposed to clear overnight.

No sooner had said room been found, things brightened and going over the Little Omarama Saddle seemed a better use of time. But I was in no rush and a decent rest after my biggest riding day in months seemed prudent. Dinner was pretty good too, and cafe’s accommodation (and shower) were most welcome. That was a good day of riding, and my shoulder stayed where it should – bravo.