Tag Archives: GSB21

bikepacking, bikes, event, family, friends, GPS, NZ

GSB21-3: Lindis River to Queenstown

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With quails nesting in the tree above, I had a far better sleep – but still with plenty of stargazing interspersed, bliss – and was last to rise again. At least this time, Guy and Eileen were still packing up their tents. Having less gear to wrangle into bags than the tented, we left our little riverside spot together for the short stretch to Tarras.

As the sun rose, it was pleasant riding on some flat gravel.

A good start to the day as we caught a few others. Only the stretch of Highway 8A I’d ridden a few times before, and always into the wind. It was no different today, in fact it was worse as the norwester had strengthened and continued to do so. The thirty-odd flat kilometres north to Hawea was the worst wind of the week and took us two hours, during which there were plenty of pauses for snacks, booking the first boat leaving Queenstown the next day, and a cue for my bottom bracket to develop rather ominous noises.

Finally, Lake Hawea was there in front of us – we just had to pedal downhill to reach it.

White caps galore, what a surprise.

Definitely time for a cafe stop in Hawea and a break from the wind. Now with the wind behind us, Eileen and I made good time to Albertown before rounding into the wind for the Outlet track. Wanaka for lunch, I split to a bike shop (no help, but thought bottom bracket would make it through – if I could bear the noise) and then went about a few hours off the bike to catch up with family and friends. Wonderful to see David and Mary and to share recent news.

A huge lunch was most welcome too, even if I’d only just had brunch.

Trying to organise to catch up with Cat, why not nap in the sun out of the hot wind? Photo: Dave King

Unable to quite arrange to meet, I started heading out of town around two. I soon became convinced that there was no way my bottom bracket was going to survive, and with remote sections to come – this was the best opportunity to get it sorted. A different bike shop was far more helpful (and concurred that it was terminal), had the part and did the work in less than two hours from my first phone call. Much respect to Black Peak Cycles. By that time, schedules aligned and twas lovely to catch up with Cat and somewhat meet a newborn.

Eventually I had to leave town, with eighty-odd kilometres and the Crown Range to rattle off and five hours of daylight available. It worked brilliantly, with the wind behind me (mostly) it was the easiest ride up to Cardrona and over the Crown that I’ve had. Pleasant temperatures (absolutely froze one early-March morning on TA16, and that day on the last GSB was a bit of an epic) and little traffic was ace. No wind at the top and the blast down to Arrowtown was exhilarating to say the least. The tedious loop of Arrowtown made no sense and was hard to figure on the coarse GPS track (those low resolution files about my only gripe all week).

Summit getting closer as the road finally kicks a little.

Thirty or so kilometres of familiar and mostly-benign cycle trail into town got done, legs holding up for the occasional short pinch climbs. Wonderful evening and time of day to be riding into town – warm, quiet. I needed lights for the last ten minutes of the pathway into town, the only time all week. Queenstown far quieter than once, as expected, I was happy to find a pizza joint open before spinning up the hill to the motel Guy had booked. Tales of the day shared, pizza half gone (some left for inevitable mid-night snack), body and clothes clean again…another cracking day. Some challenges overcome (that wind, and working through sudden bottom bracket peril), plenty of food, good riding company, taking a few hours rest out of the heat and wind, seeing loved ones and topping it off with a gorgeous solo evening ride.

bikepacking, bikes, event, GPS, NZ

GSB21-2: Quailburn to Lindis River

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The wind really got up during the night and the clattering from the roofing iron on the old woolshed intensified. I slept little; finally at four o’clock I rose and moved camp to the lee of a Land Rover. There I got some sleep, but still had plenty of moments enjoying stargazing and, later, watching the light change as another day on the bike dawned. Either it was so windy or I dozed off again, but I didn’t hear everyone leave – not a single click of a freehub! So much for my plan to slow down and ride with others, I’d slowed too much.

At least I didn’t have much to pack and I was up and rolling down the valley with a fierce wind at my back in fifteen minutes. Great fun on the quick ride to breakfast at the Wrinkly Ram (never disappoints) and I did manage to find Guy leaving and others to eat with. A meal so large I couldn’t finish it, I took some to go before heading for Little Omarama Saddle. Finding others to briefly say hi to along the way, I eventually got out of town and began the gradual climb away from the Ahuriri River. This seemed a long stretch of benign gravel, but the wind was mostly helpful and soon I was off my bike for the ninety minute push up. I had been looking forward to going over Omarama Saddle for the first time, but recent rainfall and high water forced a course change. The “little” saddle is actually higher and I remembered it well from 2019. Taking it easy, I only rode a short section and was ten minutes slower than last time – certainly wasn’t catching anyone up here.

Back north over the Ahuriri valley.

The saddle came soon enough and there began a fast, rocky, brake-squealing descent. So much fun, and a good test for the shoulder on a rigid fork. I passed some mountain-bikers on the way down, was having a complete blast tearing down and splashing through stream crossings. Surprised to catch Guy and Eileen at the end of snack break, we rode out together enjoying the valley mellowing and the water crossings got larger. Hawkduns Run Road was new to me and I enjoyed the undulations, but mostly the views of the Hawkduns and picking out the beginning of the Mt Ida Water Race (which we’d ride beside at the end of the week).

Guy and Kevin heading for St Bathans.

The wind was bit on the nose as we turned and climbed to lunch at St Bathans. The garden at the pub was most pleasant (although the barkeep made you wonder how and why some ever go into hospitality) with another large collection of riders coming and going. Best of all was best-sister and only-nibling being there as trail angels for the early afternoon. The cookies and brownies were a hit and I was lucky there were any left by the time I arrived. Nice long lunch, twas out into the afternoon with plenty of riders on the road to chat to in passing as we skirted the Manuherikia Valley.

Familiar roads that I’d not ridden before, Thompson’s Gorge was looming as we turned into the wind. Pleased to see any gates open as the course turned towards the gorge, knowing full well that there’d be many to open. With the steep climb to come, it was snack time and Guy appeared. Up we went, with the headwind strong I soon opted for the pushing option – not too disappointed to not be riding a climb I usually manage, I was happy to be saving energy. Guy dominated the climb, but with all the gates – I wasn’t too far behind. It’s a spectacular gorge and I’ve always enjoyed riding through, although it’s never easy – which is probably part of the appeal.

Things flattened out and I was soon back on the bike as we dropped to the creek and traced it upstream. The climbing begins in earnest again after an old stone hut; at least off the bike pushing, I couldn’t be blown off my bike – which I certainly would have been as the wind was far stronger than two years ago (and that knocked me off my bike).

Over the saddle and following the contour for a bit, there was the usual snap across the valley north towards the confluence of the Clutha and Lindis rivers before the rollicking gravel descent began.

Down on the flats, we battled the wind through Ardgour towards Tarras. Approaching 150 km and ten hours of riding for the day, I was most amenable to Guy’s plan to find a nice campsite out of the wind (especially after the previous night!) and not sleep near the highway. Trees beside the Lindis obliged and we were making camp after a good, but tough in parts, day at the civilised hour of eight o’clock. I could get used to this. Camp made, I kept an eye on the road for others and soon there was a strangely large gathering of windswept bikepackers on a nondescript bridge as dusk crept closer; our camping cohort only growing by one as others pressed on into the wind.

bikepacking, bikes, event, friends, GPS, NZ

GSB21-1: Tekapo to Quailburn

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A late start to the Great Southern Brevet does at least give plenty of time for breakfast at the Greedy Cow and catching up with bikepacking friends from far and wide, finally meeting previously-online friends for the first time and the chance to meet new people who soon become friends. Two years ago, there were only thirty-odd lining up at the Church of the Good Shepherd; this time, I expect due to the difficult in travelling overseas, there were near a hundred riders eager for the adventure ahead. What a privilege in these times, just to have such a large group start and simply shake hands and be with friends sans any distancing restrictions.

With six weeks off the bikepacking bike due to dislocating my shoulder before Christmas, I had simple goals for the 1100 km course. Most importantly, keep my shoulder where it should be; other aims were to see if there was any shoulder pain, take it easy and ride into a little bit of fitness, spend time riding with others, not do much night riding so as to see as much as possible, not exhaust myself before the big event of the summer, see how my lighter kit worked out and generally enjoy a week away riding in amazing part of the country. To try and trick myself into riding slower and shorter days punctuated with more stops, I’d switched to flat pedals and my street shoes – a set-up I typically only use for touring.

Heading down to the start.

Excited to get out there and see what Dave had in store for us. Photo: Dave King.

An hour milling around lots of chatty people pre-ride was excellent, but eventually we got to do what for we came for. Seen off by the cowbell toting locals down the street, I hung around until I was at the back of the field and tootled off up the hill out of town.

Bunched.

It was almost possible to lag behind, but we were soon on gravel then heading up a steep track. The desire to ride up it was still there, but not being attached to my pedals did force a dismount and push. This was working out ok.

Strewn.

That crested, the track improved to a gravel road and views across Lake Pukaki. Dropping down to the lakeside, it was forty kilometres of Alps2Ocean gravel and trail to Twizel; the wind must have been kind as even I managed that in less than two hours. Finding the problem of not having a proper shakedown ride, strangely my front brake began to increasingly rub. Arriving in town mid-afternoon for resupply I was feeling pretty ordinary. Only on leaving town and having many people fly past me, did I make the leap and realise just how much energy that little brake rub was sucking. That adjusted once off the road, everything was right with the world again and I had the semblance of a lease of life.

Which was just as well, as the next section was a good hike-a-bike up the overgrown Flanagan’s Pass. A couple of hours of mostly pushing through farmland then close tussock (at times over twenty percent), with some decent stream crossings, was not unpleasant in the late afternoon.

Somewhere, the remains of a trail under the grasses.

Back east and where we’d come from.

A brief pause at the saddle to layer up and admire the view, twas then onto a rollicking descent. So much fun!

Across the Lake Ohau headwaters

I caught up to Guy partway down and we continued around the lake to rejoin the A20 and familiar trails. With the sun starting to drop, thoughts turned to how far to go for the day. Eileen appeared from somewhere, having been well in front of me – but also having too much fun on the downhill and missing a turn. I’d not made any plans, Omarama seemed too far away for first day back on the bike. Quailburn, as Eileen had suggested, seemed a better idea at 150 km in. Guy and I made our way around the bottom of the lake, first sheltered in the scrub before joining the road and dealing with the wind off the lake. With the recent devastating fires, the campground Adele and I stayed at when we did the A2O a few years ago was closed and looking rather blackened.

Eventually we reached the lodge entrance and the time to turn from the wind for the long gradual climb into the gathering night. Chatting with a few others, it would be the last we’d see of them until back in Tekapo six nights later. Eileen rolled up and after we’d all rested and snacked a bit, the three of us started the climb. A nice steady three percent grade as twilight set in – about an hour it took.

We were all pretty spent and had a bit of a rest at the summit. Somehow I managed the last half hour without turning lights on, but it was quite dark by the time I was hunting out a bivy spot near the historic Quailburn woolshed. A great day back on the bike, save the brake rubbing wasting a bit of energy – but I sorted that and everything was excellent again. Now for the wind to die down while I slept in the lean-to of the woolshed.

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To and from Great Southern Brevet 2021

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When Guy casually asked when riding down his way two months ago if I was doing the Great Southern Brevet (of course I was, I’ve been waiting two years to repeat the toughest, and arguably best, bikepacking event I’ve done), little did I expect the offer of transport direct to Tekapo. With commercial flights already booked and paid for, I wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity for my first flight in a light plane – not to mention the convenience of not having hours of driving between airports and Tekapo. As it happens, it’s much easier to get flights refunded these days. Yet another bonus was not having to disassemble and pack my bike up – such a time and effort saver!
So that is how I came to be waiting for Guy one Friday afternoon, at the very airfield where Dad learnt to fly forty-plus years ago (we later worked out that the same instructor taught both of them, thirty-odd years apart). I had plenty of time to wander around and pose my bike against one of its more unusual backdrops. It was not hard to work out which plane was Guy’s – it already had a bikepacking stead in the back, and had a bit of genuine farm coating on the wings.

Two classic Cessna 185s, Guy’s at front (1964).

Having spent most of its life around Mt Cook, ZK-CHL was well recognised around the southern airstrips we landed at.

Guy arrived, my bike was loaded, lifejackets were alarmingly donned (water, what?!) and in no time we were in the air heading southwest.

So much to see out the window and observe in the cockpit as Guy went about routines – endlessly fascinating. Suddenly handed the controls as Guy ate and we approached the Tararuas, I was hardly a natural. But we didn’t hit the ranges, so I’m taking that. Over the course of the flights, I had a few more attempts at handling the plane, which often just flew itself in calm conditions, and enjoyed getting a bit more of a feel for it.

Tararua District

Kapiti Island

Down south now, Molesworth.

Castle Hill area.

A bit of aerial Tour Te Waipounamu scouting.

Lake Tekapo

Two hours and forty minutes later, we were landing at Tekapo, clearing a bit of junk away and tying the plane down out of the wind. Just a few kilometres to roll down the hill to dinner and we were there for the Great Southern Brevet.

After a fantastic week bikepacking all over lands south, the return trip carried on south for a night in Alexandra before the three hours back north.

Different bikepacking bike-packing.

We did see a lot of Mt Cook from a distance on the trip home, on consecutive days.

A different perspective on parts of the GSB route was also fun – Flanagan’s Pass looking much easier here than the long hike-a-bike, although I do note the lack of a visible track.

We rode around the bottom of Lake Ohau a week previously, from right to left and back.

Sunday’s campsite beside the Lindis.

The route down from Thompson’s Gorge. A lot less windy this day.

Heading towards the Clyde Dam down Lake Dunstan, all the while checking out the new cycle trail on the true right that will connect Clyde and Cromwell.

The last section to be connected, the engineering going into the trail is quite remarkable and I look forward to riding it the next time I’m in Central Otago for a holiday.

The drop off the tough Hawksburn Rd to Clyde.

A trying view while spending the night at Mark and Paula’s house – thanks.

Time to go again.

Over the Ida Valley to the Hawkduns.

The climb up Thompsons Gorge, Ida Valley behind.

Little Omarama Saddle, and Mt Cook again.

Manuherika River and the Hawkduns again, on the left.

Hawkduns, St Marys and Kakanuis (distant).

Flying itself on a calm day.

Lake Benmore, Benmore Dam, Otematata and beyond.

No prizes.

Canterbury Plains patchwork.

Suddenly, puppies. Labraspoodles I’m told. We stopped for lunch at Guy’s sister’s in Rangiora.

Fetching lifejackets, I must say! I could get used to Hawke’s Bay Bikepacking trips like this.

Crossing the coastline at Kaikoura, Guy explained some of the earthquake damage (gosh, that’s over four years ago now). You’d think it would be Kaikoura, but it was just off the coast of Wairarapa in Cook Strait, that Guy spotted a big sperm whale. Suddenly we were banking down steeply (in my limited experience) to two hundred feet to get a closer look. I think that is the first whale I’ve seen in the wild; an unexpected bonus to memorable and engaging trips to and from the GSB.

Drying off down the bottom of the North Island by now.

Can’t thank Guy enough for the flights, so enjoyable – near perfect flying weather certainly helped! What bookends to an exceptional week – it’s hard to determine whether the riding or flying comes out on top, twas all that spectacular!