New Zealand, South Island - Cycle Tour Map

A Summary of the South Island Tour



Overall distance was about 2500km or 1500 miles, between February 3rd and March 20th 1993.

Finished off with a w/e wandering around the Marlborough vineyards with Jo. We did this on foot starting with a champagne breakfast somewhere (getting there by taxi first) and then visiting a string of different vineyards until I was carrying a case of a selection of wines. I was intending to have these shipped home but when I enquired after the costs of shipping and the duty I would have to pay I decided against it. They were eventually drunk at a party at Jo's place, in Wellington, before I left.



Here are my cheats:

1) Rode on the Kingston Flyer Train, about 10 miles
2) Accepted a lift in a pick-up for the last few miles into Te Anau, may be 15 miles
3) Took the bus from Te Anau into Milford Sound, 80 miles
4) Took the bus out of Milford Sound to the tunnel, 30 miles
5) Rode the "Southerner" train from Invercargill to Dunedin, 120 miles
6) Rode the Taieri Gorge Railway from Dunedin to Pukerangi, 50 miles
7) Rode the Post Boat from Nelson to Pohara, 60 miles



Regrets:

1) I should have ridden to Christchurch
2) I should have gone to Stewart Island
3) I should have rode the train over Arthur's Pass to Christchurch and then ridden back over it
4) I should have found someone to go on a sea-kayaking/camping tour in Abel Tasman National Park
5) I should have gone back!
6) I should have done some 'tramping'

Abel Tasman and Queen Charlotte

To Abel Tasman National Park and back



This morning I did some shopping and then collected my bike. From the docks in Nelson I caught a catamaran water-taxi to Pohara, the other side of the Golden Bay Park. Like Milford Sound only one road goes out to Abel Tasman National Park and back and I thought I could avoid riding it both ways by going by boat on the outward journey. I was the only passenger on a trip which took four hours. Mostly we had parcels to deliver. At Pohara the camp-site was only minutes away. I was greeted by extremely inquisitive ducks and during the night, when it was raining, my tent was visited by a hedgehog who made a hell of a racket rummaging around my rubbish bag in the tent foyer.



The next day it rained on and off all day. All I managed was a short fifteen mile ride to Takaka where I did some shopping and watched some cricket in the pub. It was also a very dreary drizzly evening.



At last the sun came out and I had a chance to dry the tent. I continued my ride along the northern coast of South Island and found another camp-site on the sea. After setting up I continued by ride, without panniers, to Farewell Spit the westernmost point on this coast. I also travelled a bit south on an unmade road to Whanganui Inlet. This was very isolated. In the afternoon I sunbathed and walked along the beach. It was a beautiful and hazy evening.







Today was another perfect and cloudless day. My ride was back along the way I'd come to Takaka, with a side-trip to Collingwood. At the base of Takaka Hill I stopped at the Rat Trap Inn and had a beer whilst watching some cricket. It then took me an hour to ride the five miles to the top of the hill. Definitely the steepest climb yet. After that it was an exhilarating downhill ride until I discovered one more hill to climb before reaching the camp-site. I had a couple of beers in the Paradise Cafe that evening.

Marlborough, Vineyards and Queen Charlotte Drive

The ride to Mapua was a short one of about two hours. Once again I spent the afternoon in the sun and walking around the beaches. This is a very antiquated place with a fifties feel.



The following days ride took me through Nelson and then over two steep climbs to Pelorus Bridge. The camp-site was peaceful and quiet, apart from the sound of rutting deer. I took some nature walks through the forest.

The next day was also a short ride to Havelock, but after setting up camp I rode further on to Renwick and visited several vineyards. It was a bit of a struggle cycling back.

My final days ride in the south Island took me along the Queen Charlotte Drive into Picton. The road itself was atrocious but the views were very picturesque over the sounds. I found a motel in town and booked in for the week-end as Jo was coming over from Wellington.

Over the Haast Pass and Riding the West Coast

The Haast Pass

It rained heavily in the night and I woke to an almost flooded tent. I spent the hours in the morning attempting to dry my tent and trying to decide whether to go over the Haast Pass that day or not, In the end the sun came out and I decided to go.

On the pass itself roadworks were holding up the traffic which was only being let through on the hour. Luckily I only had to wait ten minutes. The climb, on the final stretch of gravel road, was relatively short and painless, though one of the workmen did shout out to me that it was another five miles to the top. It was in fact only a few hundred yards!



Once over the pass you enter the West Coast of the South Island which is part of a huge National Park. It is also a temperate rainforest, with about seven metres of rain a year! I wasn't surprised therefore when the rain returned, and didn't stop for the next two days. Once the traffic had gone I had the road to myself for hours at a time, and although it was difficult to admire the mountains, the forest, the river and the waterfalls in the driving rain it was a fabulous downhill ride.

On the way I passed an American couple and rode with them for a while. After an hour or so of incessant rain I was soaked, but not cold. However when the valley flattened towards the coast this cold biting wind started blowing in our faces and almost brought us to a standstill. At Haast village I didn't fancy camping. The camp-ground looked waterlogged, but the two motels there were fully booked. I looked a right sight wandering into these, dripping wet and squelching everywhere.



Eventually I had to face a further fourteen miles down the coast to Okuru where I managed to share a bunk room with some Austrians. I bumped into one of them again in Auckland. The room had a small heater so I managed to dry everything off. I'd ridden sixty miles in five hours today, mostly in the rain.

A Temperate Rainforest to Fox Glacier

Today was worse. Eighty miles in seven hours, all of them in the rain. Almost everything survived dry, except the clothes I was wearing and my diary. The rain washed out the bottom four lines on every page! The ride was exhilarating though. After riding back to Haast village I rode up the coast through rainforest most of the way. I had three steep climbs in succession along the top of cliffs overlooking the crashing surf swirling around rock pinnacles, and around headlands where the strength of the wind almost stopped me. Through the forest the sounds of the birds and frogs was incredible. Not many people out on the roads in this weather.



When I got to the village at Fox Glacier I was lucky enough to get the last bed in the bunk-house. Everyone was very subdued here though. Many people had been trapped by the rain-storms for several days and hadn't had the opportunity to go hiking up the glaciers and mountains.

To Franz Josef and beyond

The next day was a relatively short ride, but this included three steep climbs between the Fox and the Franz Josef Glaciers. Finally the rain stopped and I had a chance to admire the fine views of the snow-clad mountains and the forest. After a short break at the Franz Josef village I continued onto Whataroa where I stayed in a motel. I spent another evening drying everything out.



Onto the Empire Hotel at Ross

The day after that was also up and down, especially over Mount Hercules. The rain managed to hold off and I stopped for lunch at Harihari and later, at Ianthe I chatted to an old couple who were also cycling. At Ross I decided to stay at the Empire Hotel, a pub really, and spent the evening at the bar chatting to the locals. The highlight was the fact that my room had a bath. After improvising a plug I managed to enjoy a long soak after drinking a couple of jugs.

Go West

Over the Hills to Wanaka

As we packed in the morning we had an audience marvelling at the compactness our our gear and how it fitted into our panniers. This was hilarious. Then they gave us a royal send off!

The day was again bright and sunny although later we had a strong headwind to fight. The road up to the dam was steep and then we followed a newly flooded valley up to Cromwell. I'd been here before, two weeks ago! After a stop at a road-side fruit stall we continued onto Wanaka. Whilst we were pulled over brewing a cup of tea a tandem approached. We waved it down and offered them a brew. They were from England but had emigrated about a year ago, and were doing a day trip with the baby in tow. They caught up with us later at a small cafe.

The final run saw us riding down the hill into Wanaka. This was great, with the mountains in the background and the forest surrounding the lake in the foreground. We found a hostel overlooking the lake and booked ourselves into the bunk room. We took a walk around town in the evening. Everything is much greener here after the brownness of Otago.



Dusty Roads with Spectacular Mountains and Lakes

I road alone today as Stefan decided to stay another day. I briefly bumped into him again  months later in the North Island on the Coramandel Peninsular, but we were going in opposite directions. This day was very hot and I had to be careful not to burn my arms. The ride took me along the side of Lake Hawea before crossing over back to Lake Wanaka. Parts of the road here were also gravel and quite treacherous. In fact it was so dry I had to stop every time a car went past as they kicked up such a cloud of dust.. Fortunately this wasn't very often.



The camp-ground at Makarora was small and mostly catered for people staying in 'A' shaped cabins. The kitchen area was very roomy though and the atmosphere relaxed.

Into Central Otago

The Brown, Dusty, and Rutted Roads

I left early the next morning and agreed to meet Rick and Jen later in Ranfurly. The countryside here is very brown and dusty and the road often degenerated into gravel and mud. This made the going slow and dangerous. It took me about four hours to go forty miles. I stopped for lunch for a long while, sitting in the sun, expecting them to catch up, but they didn't. Eventually I got to the small town of Ranfurly and after a tea and a sandwich I found the camp-site and set up.



Later I rode into town to do some shopping and whilst hosing the dust off my bike at a local garage, they turned up. Apparently Jen's bike had broken a couple of spokes on those tortuously rutted roads. This town didn't have a bicycle shop, but I had a couple of spokes to give them. Unfortunately it was also the back wheel and none of us had the right tools. Rick just hashed it up enough to last until the next town.



That evening we went for a drink in the local pub. Saturday night out!

Cricket and Gold

Rick and Jen decided to stay in Ranfurly that day so I left alone. Just out of town though I bumped into a Swiss guy, called Stefan, and we rode together for the rest of the day. We took a small by-way down this valley, climbed a steep hill out of it and then had a great downhill ride to a pub on the far side. We sat in the sun and had a sandwich. My odometer went through a thousand miles today.



After stopping off at another small town for a break we continued up the valley to a town called Clyde, near the dam of the same name. The camp-ground was right next to the cricket ground, and, it being a Sunday, a game was in progress. Stefan was mystified but I gained a few brownie points by enquiring after the score. This proved useful as we were invited into the club-house for a drink. I also met a chap from Riverton who knew Graham Robertson (Jo's Uncle). Small World. He also gave me a drink!

We camped beside the river listening to the sound of a dredger. Gold?

On the Taieri Gorge Railway

Into Central Otago



From Dunedin I planned to take the train on the old Central Otago line up the Taieri Gorge Railway. This is a tourist train, that goes up and back again, but I'd heard that you could take your bike one way and then cycle through the old gold country. The train didn't leave til the afternoon, so I spent the morning in town and the 'Settler's Museum'.



When I arrived at the station, a bit early, I was surprised to find the train was just coming in. The staff told me that it had already been up the gorge that morning with passengers off a cruise ship. She suggested that I could take the train, for free, down to the docks and back instead of waiting on the station. Great. I did this and was amused to chat to the passengers who had been treated to a massive banquet, including champagne. Their was plenty left so I tucked in, enjoying the ride at the same time.



The journey up the gorge was spectacular and all those on board were amiable and chatty. The train consisted of restored coaches, but the engines were a pair of relatively modern diesels. At the head of the gorge, where the valley opened out onto a plain the train terminated. This was truly the middle of nowhere, with a dust road connecting to the main road several miles away. It wasn't even a village, just a single hut in the wilderness. This was Pukerangi!



On the train I'd met two cyclists, Rick and Jim, from Newcastle, and we rode the twelve miles of so to the nearest village. Here we found an overgrown camp-site. No-one else was here, in fact a small girl told us the price and her Mum would be along later. There was also a dead sheep in the field. very smelly. But at least the toilets and showers were clean.

Antarctica Starts here

The ride took me beside the bleak southern coast. I imagine Antarctica a thousand miles or so across the ocean. The trees here were twisted by the prevailing winds into sculptures; the tree in the photograph is a Podocarp an ancient type of Pine tree.



Whilst I was stopped I was overtaken by a cowman and a couple of young hands driving a herd along the road. They were doing this on small motor-bikes. I chatted to the ruddy-faced old man for about half-an-hour, mostly about the bleakness of the winters down here.





Later on I arrived in the small town of Riverton and managed to locate Jo's Uncle Graham. I had the temerity to knock on his door and explain who I was. He kindly invited me in for a cup of tea and some bread and jam. I stayed chatting for an hour or so, about his family and England and about Rugby too.

After this the traffic gradually got worse as I approached Invercargill. I was shocked after riding riding a couple of weeks along the quietest roads. The town was also remarkably flat and featureless; it was also Americanised to the extent of fast-food places and car-dealerships on the edge of town. I treated myself to a meal in a restaurant and found a rather tacky motel to stay the night in. The only consolation was that a group of vintage car enthusiasts were staying at the same place. The cars from the US and of a 30's and 40's vintage. They were all immaculately preserved and yet were being driven around the back-roads and even on some dirt roads that I would have been reluctant to take my bike on.

Dunedin with Albatross and Penguins

The bleakness of the town, the business of the main road to Dunedin and the description of the road - unmade and lonely - made the decision to catch the train an easy one. So I had to get up early to catch the 'Southerner'; a train that runs once a day to Christchurch. At the station, a fabulous building, I met another cyclist, from Alaska, who was also keen to leave Invercargill. It was a three hour ride to Dunedin on a tiny three carriage train with comfortable sheepskin covers on the seats. It reminded me of the Cross-Pennine train from Sheffield to Manchester.



Passenger trains no longer run from Invercargill via Dunedin to Christchurch though the line is still used for freight.

Dunedin is a town with far more character than Invercargill. After finding the tourist information place I found a vegetarian cafe and another cyclist to chat to. I planned to cycle out to the Otago Peninsular and visit the wild-life colonies out there, but was struck by ferocious headwinds as I circled the bay and estimated I wouldn't have time to get there and back before nightfall. I therefore found myself somewhere to stay, a smart little motel, and rode back into town, without my panniers of course, to try and get on one of the afternoon minibus tours that go out.



I just managed this by the kindness of the staff at the tourist place telephoning a tour that had already left but who were spending the first hour at a local museum. They came and picked me up. About eight of us were then driven out to visit the seal colony. We watched these for a while and then went to see the Albatrosses. These are the only Albatrosses to next n the mainland anywhere in the world and we watched them from a specially built study-centre and hide. Only one nesting chick and mother remained (it was the end of the season), though we did manage to get a good close view of these giant birds. The wing-span is about 11 feet!



After that we were taken to a bay where the Yellow-eyed Penguin come ashore every night to roost in the sand-dunes. We had to stay a fair distance from them but we could see them surfing in, hopping out of the waves, and then waddling up the beach. One actually walked about six feet from Us! We then moved down to the nesting area and walked through a maze of trenches (like the First World War ones) to observe various individuals. One had stood motionless for a month or so to moult. Apparently these birds like to nest under small bushes and several A shaped constructions had been prepared for them. The biggest problem is feral cats stealing the chicks and surfers using the bay; this makes the birds apprehensive about entering and leaving the water to feed.



When we returned to town I found that someone had stolen my bicycle pump! My fault for leaving it exposed I suppose; luckily this was the only item that was ever stolen from me on the whole trip. In the evening I ordered some take-away pizza and watched some television.

A Walk around Town

I spent the next day wandering around town, bought a new telescopic pump that fits into my handlebar bag. I also bought a new T-shirt. I finally posted all the stuff I'd bought in Te Anau and other stuff that I didn't need I sent back to Jo in Wellington; including my Walkman and Tapes. In the afternoon I walked through the Botanical Gardens and the University. It seemed to be freshers week. I was disappointed that I would be unable to go to the Cadbury's Chocolate Factory for a tour as it was fully booked.

In the evening I strolled along the wide empty St. Kilda's beach.

Clifden Suspension Bridge and Tuatapere

The day begins with with a ride in the wrong direction! I'd foolishly asked a local for help. I eventually turned around, but wasted an hour or so as I tried to get away from Manapouri. The day started bright, but then clouded over and looked especially ominous up the long slow climb to Jericho Hill. I passed absolutely nothing for about four hours. Eventually I got to Clifden and its old suspension bridge, before riding into Tuatapere. This is  strange town.




I was the only camper at the municipal site; a bit of a dump actually, and was just debating whether or not to stray when a family turned up for a picnic. The camp-ground was actually the rugby/cricket pitch for the town, and these people had inadvertently strayed here. However they offered my a cup of tea and some cake and we had a little chat, before they left.



Later in the evening two cyclists appeared. They were locals out on a four or five day ride. They were peculiar but friendly. One of them asked my permission to take a photograph of my bike. After that they tried to persuade me to change my plans and ride with them to this lake somewhere. I declined.

To Eglington Valley and Manapouri

The Climb out from Milford Sound

After an early breakfast onboard and a short cruise from our mooring in the sound we arrived back at the quay at about 8am. Becasue the bus returning the boat people was Te Anau I took the opportunity to hitch another ride. This meant I avoided the notoriously steep climb from the coast up to the tunnel. I begged the coash driver for a lift and he dropped me off on the far side of the tunnel which saved me a lot of bother. From here it was about a fifty mil ride down to Te Anau. Mostly downhill.



By mid-afternoon, I'd decided that it would be nicer to camp somewhere along the road rather than go back to town, and eventually I found a Dept. of Conservation site beside a river. These generally have a chemical toilet, a picnic table and a fire-ring. Good enough! Later another cyclist turned up. Rick, a Dutchman. I spent the afternoon cleaning and oiling my bike and sunbathing. In the evening we lit a fire and chatted, mostly about music and favourite bass players.



On to Manapouri and the Morris Minors

In the morning we packed in a furious hurry as we were being eaten alive by tiny blackflies aboiut the size of thinderbugs (Noseeums!). Good job they didn't find us the night before! Wew didn't ride together as Rick didn't seem to want to, and I rode alone to Te Anau. I remember startling a rabbit on the grass verge and chasing it down the road for a bit before it disappeared. In Te Anau I spent an hour or so at the National Park HQ looking at the displays. I bought some stuff to send to the kids back home, rode into toen to find the Post Office, only to discover they were closed. I had to carry the stuff until Monday!



Whilst riding around tiown one of my panniers fell off! I got quite a shock, but it was only gpoing to happen one more time; ages later in the USA! I also bumped into Rick again, but he was staying in Te Anau and I was keen to stay somewhere else and subsequently rode down the lake-side to Manapouri, a tiny village, besides the lake of the same name.

Here I found a cafe on the shore and spent a while throwing sticks for a stray dog to retrieve. It was pretty hot, but I didn't fancy a swim. The campground was fine, although the american lady who ran it was very keen to sell me some tourist trips. For example, a visit to the underground hydro power station! Scattered around the site were half a dozen Morris Minors in various states of dis-repair. her son was a collector. The best was painted in camouflage, with a toiy gun bolted to the bonnet!

In the evening I visited the local pub for a pint and watched the sun go down. Didn't really chat to anyone though.