Monday 28 November 2016

Spain: the further adventures

So what do you do when a family bikepacking adventure is equal parts agony and ecstasy? Why, you write a book about it of course! 

Tentative title: Camino sock wars

There was so many little things, so many details that happened during our trip in Spain while travelling to and along the amazing Camino de Santiago that it doesn’t lend itself to a quick blog post. Over the past 6 months when not just simply living the tedious moments of everyday existence, we have been jotting down all the details of our month in Spain, trying to suitably encapsulate the moments in words before the passing of time discolours the intensity and erodes the definition of our memories. 

The book is at least half a year away, so below is a brief overview of our time in Spain.

History is everywhere in Spain, as we are citizens of the new world, Medieval towns centres were entrancing.

Canals and their accompanying gravel roads provided a quiet link between town centres as we made our way across northern Spain toward the Camino de Santiago.
 
As good as online maps and navigation apps are, always question when a displayed route goes over blue water. This de-couplement of the trailer and stretching of legs occurred because we encountered a drainage channel when "navigating" a "road" through marshland beside a lake.  Please note the dear little valkyrie wearing the purple slipper shoes and the total abandonment of socks. It was un-seasonally cold weather for us Antipodean campers and this added to the severity and frequency of unhappy toddler incidents.

As we neared the Camino a colder front blew down from France. We missed snow by 25km. It may look nice and sunny in this Medieval church courtyard, but there were gales and sleety flurries around us as we headed for Pamplona. We would like to say that it was wonderful to reach Pamplona and to finally be on the Camino Frances, but we could only say that if we ignored the misadventures had finding accommodation, the bout of toddler food poisoning and the continued challenging weather. Oh! of note is how darn accurate those weather apps are in Spain. Rain fell within 5 to 10 minutes of the predicted time!

Much to the delight of other pilgrims on the Camino, we battled the unseasonal cold weather and pottered along the trail, noticing the snow flurries on the ridge line in the distance and seeking shelter behind the mountain peak from the blustery winds.

Some days in the middle of our jaunt where what we expected of Spain in Spring, and we were able to understand why the cold water of these ancient baths were enjoyed. Unfortunately this wasn't to last.

 Another bout of food poisoning for our dear toddler was just starting to end by the time this side road picnic occurred, and we recognised that a difficult decision needed to be made. We were behind our travel schedule and our dear little valkyrie needed rest time.
Our solution was to temporarily split up. The girls were going to bus ahead and I was to blast along 220km in two days to meet them in Astorga. It was mad for us both. I smashed out 160km in the first day trying the cover as much ground before the next wave of forecast rain hit, while "D" wrangled bike, unfamiliar trailer and our sick little one, all while searching for accommodation in new town.

Here by the medieval walls of Leon you can see that the forecast rains did indeed catch up with me. At times that day it was a down right bog-fest, but I soldiered on and met my dear ones in Astorga.

From Astorga we continued onwards in unseasonally cold weather to find crosses on mountain tops...

... Templar castles...

... and required a short day or two, due to frequent rain and I going into caloric deposit.

Yet we soldiered on and discovered mountain top monuments among the milling pilgrim walkers.

Finally, our destination, The Cathedral of Saint James in Santiago was reached in inclement weather.

In hindsight there are things that we could have done differently, yet there are things that we did that worked fantastically on our tykepacking expedition along the Camino. Perhaps the hard learned lessons to successful tykepacking needs to be the next post.

Don't worry Camino de Santiago, we will return... just perhaps not for a few years yet.

Tuesday 31 May 2016

Longrange Spainish weather forecast: Toddler storm front increasing inseverity.

Leaving Barcelona
On Sunday morning, after wrangling two mostly loaded bikes and a trailer down five stories of narrow apartment stairs into the entrance vestibule, one at a time, we then wrangled our Antipodean child into warm clothes and downstairs onto the sidewalk. Wrangling the cumbersome bikes was the easier job. No amount of pre departure preparation was going to see Anika happy about putting on warm clothes. The past two days in Barcelona had told us that much, and moving the dear little one to a intended departure schedule only made matters worse. Its safe to say that our temporary Barcelona neighbourhood was happy to see our noisy convoy depart.

 The Medieval bridge in Martorell

As per usual, all was fine once you start moving on a bike, Anika settled, the day was warmed by the glowing sunshine and the metropolis slowly disappeared behind us as we purposely rumbled along roads, gravel paths, and Camino pathways toward our first stop of Cervera. We saw medieval bridges, functional antique carousels and were even almost rammed by a crazed wild boar as it charged out of a field and across the road (its amazing what a bit of frantic yelling will do). All these new distractions could not erase the 100km that we had to traverse while dragging our unfamiliarly loaded bikes gradually up hill into a mild headwind. It was a big first day for us all, we were all unhappy, even the aged thrashings of the 'oh so Aussie' Hoodoo Guru's from the Bluetooth speaker were not enough to distract us from our collective funk. Thankfully the medieval ridge line silhouette of Cervera rose ahead of us. Today raised an important concern; were we going to be able to do what we planned to do each day? We certainly were not going to be able to do another 100km tomorrow. Tomorrow was going to have to be cut in half.


 Day 1
Barcelona to Cervera
Distance: 104km
Riding Time: 8hrs45min 
Average speed: 11.9km/hr

 Cervera

Medieval Anzac Magic
Cervera is an amazing medieval town. Of course there is many other such towns in Spain, but this was the first that we experienced, and so the most memorable. Air B&B was the avenue for sourcing our accommodation, as campsites were understandably non existent in a fortified, ridge top, medieval town. We stayed in a house on the ancient main street which had been converted into three ultramodern accommodation apartments. It was cosy, well appointed and incredibly well priced. As we only had 54km to travel this day, we got up had the next sock battle of our trip and then pottered around Cervera finding tasty baked goods and foodstuffs for the days journey. Presently the sun rose at 7am and set at 9.30pm, we had lots of time to travel our 54km.

"Anzac" poppys

Fittingly today was Anzac day and we came across fields of red poppies. They lined the roads growing wild. {For those from elsewhere: Anzac day is the Australian war memorial holiday and the red poppy is the official memorial flower.} Anika delighted in asking for a poppy till we pulled over and gave her a botanical sample that lasted perhaps for the next hour, then she asked for another.

Google's map app on my phone was the navigator for the day. Most times it works very well when you select directions for bicycle, but somehow it doesn't fully recognise stairs. Yes, after riding country roads, dirt roads and beside canals, we came the the dam wall, and the stairs that we had to ascend to the top of the dam wall so that we could get to our campground on the other side.
Thankfully it wasn't many stairs, about 35 in all, and decoupling the trailer and wrangling the fully loaded bikes was all that was needed.


 The Stairs!

Our Camp was in Sant Llorec de Montgai at Camping La Noguera. An impressively large caravan and campground that must absolutely heave in summer when everyone migrates to escape the oppressive heat on the plains. It wasn't Summer, it was Spring that was running late, so the caravan park was a literal ghost town. We were soon to discover why.

Day2
Cervera to Sant Llorec de Montgai
Distance: 54km
Riding Time: 3hrs47min 
Average speed: 14.4km/hr

Camp beneath the Oak trees



Saturday 23 April 2016

Camino Tykepacking

How is it that I come to be in a plane descending on Spring time Barcelona with my dear wee daughter and wife after enduring 23hours of travel? Well, really it's my dear wife's fault. 
"D" upon my return from the CBNZB said: "You're not going without me next time." Which of course ment that I was not going to be going on an overseas bikepacking trip without the dear little Valkyre. But where in the world is suitable for Tykepacking? I'm certain there are lots of options on planet Earth for riding self supported with your child, but we decided to ride the Camino de Santiago in Spain. Being a historic pilgrimage trail for centuries the Camino has frequent supply points in regular frequent towns, cities and localities, perfect for toddler distraction, feeding and toileting. 


The French way of Camino starts in the town of St. Jean Pied de Port near the French/Spanish boarder in the Pyrenees mountains. Excess baggage fees on local European flights were a headache for taking our bikes, so we decided that riding from our international arrival city was the go. 


So here we are today, the 24th of April, after invading our little Barcelona apartment for two days with at times a cranky toddler and Bikepacking kit, about to depart for a 6 day ride to Roncesvalles. Roncesvalles is the first Spanish town on the Camino. We have planned 21days to get from extensive Barcelona to Santiago, let's see what adventures unfold on the way!

Tuesday 12 January 2016

The 2015 review.

Its almost a year since any postings have been foisted upon the world. What did December of 2014 through 2015 hold in regard to bikeventuring for Ant??

Christmas 2014: Riding as much bush from Brisbane city to Redlands Bay and getting "lost" and bush bashing through public easements. Thanks Google maps for showing roads that have never been built.

Tassie Trails and borrowed bikes. 


Fog on Mount Wellington top...

Gravel grinding the Lockyer Valley


Fatbiking on North Stradbroke Island (As previously posted)

Circumnavigating Lake Manchester

Freeroading up Tambourine Mountain for a family picnic

Riding 80km after work on Saturday to Tambourine Mountain for the Swift Solstice World wide campout. Via as much trail as possible of course!

Swift Solstice camp out day two and single track attack the next day at Nerang.

Up to Cairns for a top end winter holiday. Smithfield World Cup XC trail. I was here in 1996!

Racing the clock on the Brisbane Valley Rail trail between Blackbutt and Moore.

Lockyer Valley freeroading again.

 Trailer training in Esk as part of our first family three day touring trip in the Coominya district. ("Mummy, don't put your head in my trailer!") Country roads for our first ever tour... but soon trailer on trails!


A mad 90km dash for a Bribie Island sunrise, that started at 2am.

Rebuilt old Stumpjumper and Cornubia singletrack

Racing the Epic bikepacking style. Best result for the 87km ever! Framebag mounted water bladders, dropper posts and plus sized wheels rock! (Home made framebag as well!)


Prototype dropper post compatible seat bag tested on an overnighter in D'Agular National Park.

Team Rohloff at the Audax Midnight century. Yes, there are a few Rohloff Speedhubs in our family.

Family bikepacking overnighter on the Brisbane Valley Rail Trail. On trails this time! Going fat tyres on the trailer: Tykepacking, its a thing!
Secret single track discovery on Boxing day. There is nothing quite like a new trail.


Monday 11 January 2016

Sandy Sojurn

North Stradbroke Island half circumnavigation. 

By the end of March 2015 March another chance for an overnight adventure of the fat kind presented itself. Now I'd ridden a Specialized Fatboy on trails before at a demo event, but here was a chance to try one out riding on North Stradbroke Island. As mates were staying in cheap cabins at Point Lookout, I of course was going to ride half way around the island to get to them and half of that journey would occur on the beach at night. Ferry time tables, train time tables, all consulted to get me from the in-laws birthday party a little early and via the train, onto the last ferry across to North Stradbroke on a Sunday. I was lucky, my frame bag fitted the medium Fatboy I had to borrow quite well, so it was lightweight Fatpacking ahoy!


Fat on a train

Fat on a Ferry

Fat on the beach.

From the ferry terminal at Dunwich I rode east across the Island over the highest point, past the Blue Lake national park to the beach, and headed north to Point Lookout. I was nice to have the beach all to myself and roll along in the wind blown sand fog that seemed to dull my lights to the prehistoric level of a halogen bulb. The evidence of all the daytime 4WD frolicking was left higher up the beach.
I met up with my friends at the local pub, finished off their left over pizza and ambled back to the accommodation.


The next day it was back onto more sand via Adder rock camping ground and along beach to just before the knob of Amity Point. Sandy utility(power line) access roads, tar-seal, and wallaby tracks all eventually took me back to Dunwich. After the relaxing vehicle ferry ride back to Cleveland, wolfing dinner at at local eatery, I inflated the Fatboy's tyres to firm and rode that buzzy pedal Hummer 50km back to home. It was crazy, entertaining but I'm not sure that I'll do that again.

Follow those tracks...


Thursday 9 April 2015

The Cooke Brothers New Zealand (Kiwi) Brevet
The condensed version
{for additional photos look at the previously posted entries}

Day 1: CBNZB begins
Auckland Airport to Thames 126km
After airport adventures of undisclosed oversized baggage charges and itinerant backpacker sleeping in the airport we tottered out to assemble the bikes just after dawn. An epic three hours later and multiple conversations with smokers had, we left Auckland. (We inadvertently started assembling the bikes in the designated smokers hut!) Aucklands Southern suburbs passed in a blur and we motored to Kawakawa Bay for lunch. The wizened navigator Google said that it would take us 4hr 14min to reach Thames. From my previous experience riding this region, I knew there was a spur to crest and undulations round the Firth of Thames to manage. We rejected navigator Googles well meaning advice and decided that we could post off our excess baggage to Cromwell on Tuesday morn. Rather than the planned Monday afternoon. It was a good decision as a headwind greeted us over the spur. Thankfully it became a tailwind that pushed us along the bottom of the Firth of Thames right into Thames. We only exceeded Navi Googles estimates by 15min. Hmmm??!! Lesson learned for the day; bike assembly always take longer than estimated. I have a cut finger that attests to that! 

Day 2: Rail trail blitzing and Hobbiton bound
Thames to Matamata 123km
First day packing up camp when on tour always takes longer than expected. The as yet un mastered pack up routine hindered departure and we hooned into Thames central to the Post Office.  Packaged off to Cromwell to await us is the bike travel bags and carry on luggage, minus contents. The flat gravel, well built bridges and flat grade of the Hauraki rail trail saw us make Paeroa in good time. Unfortunately finding a replacement buckle for my pack saw many locals sending us all over the town center. (If you need something fixed, good chance Bunnings Paeroa will sort you out.) From Paeroa we branched out along the Karangahake gorge to historic Victoria Battery at Waikino. The rail tunnel and viaduct bridges over highway 2 that lead to the gold mining ruins at Victoria Battery were the highlights of the day. Lunch demolished in the Victoria Battery ruins we finished our bike fashion photo shoot and tore back along to Paeroa. The jaunt from Paeroa into Matamata was uneventful along the arrow straight rail trail that ended at Te Aroha, but we capped it off with early takeout dinner before charging to the finish. Rain gear was necessary for the last blat into Matamata, dooming the tents to be neglected for cheap cabin lodgings for the night. 



Day3: Hobbiton and the impending Doom
Matamata to Arapuni 74.6km
Just before we were due to scarper from the Opal Springs Holiday Park Matamata the rain came down again, but thankfully it was a classic Nz spring shower. We tore along the rolling, but increasingly steep Waikato hills to Hobbiton for the 9.30am tour. It was looking close. It became apparent that we were not going to make the 9.30 tour, so we relaxed for about a minute, then a squally cloud blew  in, then we rounded the corner to Hobbiton, THEN it started to hail! Of course in true New Zealand style the hail eased up in 2 minutes and brilliant sun returned. Thanks to the lovely staff at Hobbiton set tours we safely stashed our fully loaded bikes and did the tour. We bussed, we photographed, we listened to the knowledgeable tour guide... This is when the impending doom appeared.  
It rained again, then the sun came out, then another mini storm blew across and we frantically raided a Hobbit hole umbrella stash. After the tour we pedalled through the Waikato hills to be buffeted by more squally 3 minute showers. At the Karapiro Mobil service station we consulted maps, IPhones and accomodation guides as we realised that we were not going to make our intended camp for the night. More rolling Waikato hills took us to the quaint little town of Arapuni. The wonderful owners of the Arapuni Backpackers looked after us, dried our rain gear overnight, while we transformed our bunk room into a backpackers laundry. 
Day 4 holds the Waikato River Trails 75-80km of river side singletrack!


Day 4: Dam, Dam and Damn!!!
Arapuni to Rotorua 136km.
Leaving our most accomodating Arapuni Backpackers hosts and the knowledgable Brian of Rhubarb cafe, we started on the serpentine singletrack of the Waikato River trails. From Arapuni Swingbridge through to Jones Landing is a technical delight with a staircase thrown in to keep you entertained. A country road blat takes you to the tiny but delightful Jim Barnett Reserve for 3-4km of Punga (tree fern) lined singletrack before popping you back out onto that country road again. In total there is 75-80km of serpentine singletrack that runs along the river and traverses more than six different trail types. The dams visited are; Arapuni, Waipapa, Maraetai and Whakamaru. Mangakino was a great place to have lunch while waiting for a crazy afternoon storm to blow over. Over 35km of singletrack and numerous squeeze gates (bikepacking kit only! panniers will NOT fit through!) took us through to Atiamuri. Mr Garmin Etrex happily told us that there was 40km to Rotorua and only 1hour of daylight left. Thanks to our Dynamo powered light sets (big thanks to Kerry of KLite for all his assistance with gear advice and fantastic product!) we motored into Rotorua at 9.35pm at night. Lesson for the day?; technical singletrack takes a while to ride! Thanks KLite!!!
  
Day 5: Ah Rotorua!
Rotorua trails 43.2km.
The mornings daudle ride took us along Long Mile Road past the beloved giant Redwoods to the Outdoorsman and into town via the fragrant Sulphur Point thermal area. After the morning of errands sourcing materials for repairs of damaged luggage harnesses and obligatory hot beverages at Zippys, we headed into the Whakarewarewa forest. In the forest we visited some of our old favourite trails that we have not visited for five years. Some remained almost untouched for the passing of time like the deliciously technical and sloppy Tuhoto Araki or the furiously swoopy Split Enz. Other trails like Tickler and Be Rude Not To were not so lucky and only retained a mote of their former glory thanks to the decimation of loggers. I suppose that's the price you pay building sweet trails in a "working forest".  Of course our Rohloffed steeds charged through sloppy mud and bermed trail alike with nary a whimper! Tomorrow it's off to the start of the Timber Trail. 






Day 6: Dam, wind and rain. 

Rotorua to Pureroa Forest 107km
Leaving Rotorua at a reasonable hour we headed out to the Thermal trail to get our departing fix of trail, only to be met by a steady stream of heavily laiden ultra runners entering the trail head participating in some event. Trail fix denied we endured bitter tarmac that took us to the nice curly back roads that took us from fondly missed Rotorua to the trail head of the Waikato River Trails yet again. This road was preferable to highway 30 as it was sheltered in the valley from the gusty wind. There was even a gravel section to keep things interesting. A modest lunch was had as well as another fashion photo shoot at Ohakuri dam. It was far more dryer and sheltered along Waikato river trails for zipping along to Whakamaru than if we had soldiered along the highway. Local characters and hot toasted sandwiches banished the damp mood before we tootled along the Whakamaru chalky cliff top singletrack to the local motor cross track. Therein we had to clamber over what had been described as an open gate! The only option now was the main road to Pureroa forest. These roads wove through the open grassy plains. Crazy gale force winds tore across the plains on occasion and bought us to a grinding halt on one hill in particular. We had to wait a moment before we could remount the bikes, it was that strong. To say that the Cooke Bro's were happy to see the dirt road into Pureroa Forest would have been an understatement! There, only metres away from tomorrow's trailhead was a cabin where the Phillimore duo were waiting with a roast chicken dinner ready to eat! Hot shower, dinner, great company! What more could you ask for after a trying day on the bike? Thanks Phillimores!


Day 7: Timber!
Pureroa Forest to Taumarunui 113km.
The 84km Timber trail stretches from Pureroa Forest to the old logging town of Ongarue. It's an amazing trail that weaves through ancient "bearded" native forest, over dizzingly high suspension bridges, past denuded forestry and through historic decaying logging settlements. On a loaded bikepacking steed after a big pervious day it seems to take  forever to get up to the high point 14km along the trail. It was schlooshy wet in places but not boggy enough to hamper progress and of course the Rohloff drive trains almost totally removed any tyre/mud/drivetrain contamination issues. Yet once at the top we seemed to hoon down, particularly from Piropiro flat onwards. We went well but not quite at swift enough a pace for Mr. Phillimore to rendezvous with Mrs. Phillimore at the trails end. Goodbye and thank you Mr. P and we trotted onward down the trail as fast as we could. Descending onwards we spotted shy departing wild goats on trail and various locomotive ruins. Filtered water from the trail side stream saw dehydration disappointed for another day. (thanks Tier Gear!) Some sections were quite bumpy on a bikepacking loaded rigid bike but the Punga(tree fern) lined cuttings were a delight to the eye.  Ongarue reached, we called ahead to Taumarunui to secure lodgings and tore in the main highway to grab a hot meal before everything closed. Supermarket supplies for the next day's secured, we enjoyed some Indian curries as the 8pm sunset unfolded before us.


Day 8: Rain-apeu
Taumarunui to Ohakuni 89km.
Almost on que the weather turned to crap as we were making our way through Taumarunui. Daudling to photograph the deadwood constructed full size Moa and to grab second breakfast at the supermarket we wished for a break in the weather. Unable to avoid the inevitable any longer we ambled along the country gravel back roads in the intermittent rain. A springtime New Zealand staple, the rain blew across in gentle squalls to be replaced by momentary calm to be replaced by squalls in an ongoing cycle. Owhango and the cafe was a welcome warm break from the descending temperatures and continuing squally showers. We motored along SH4, dynamo powered lights a'glowing in the rainy murk and discovered Raurimu "Woodasaurus Recks" made by the same artist as Deadwood Moa near National Park. 
The Alpine tablelands normally afford a good view of the central North Island mountains but due to the abismal weather we could see nill. Entering the town of National Park we discovered another deadwood sculpture, this time a Kiwi, took photos and promptly headed to the nearest cafe. Hot drinks again consumed we glumphed out into the weather, and this time enjoyed the almost gale force tail wind. The craparama weather was starting to ease. At Horopito we entered the Old Coach Road trail that was to take us to Ohakune. This trail was a historic mixed bag just like the Timber trail. There were suspension bridges, converted viaducts, sweet singletrack and historic, horrendously bumpy, cobbled roads that had us dreaming of fully suspended bikepacking rigs. Entering town just after 8pm we raided the local Dairy and proceeded to our accomodation, which was closed for the off ski season. Option B closed 15minutes before we got there. Option C the LKNZ Backpackers answered their after hours doorbell and gave us a cheep bunk room which we filled with dirty bikes and freshly launded clothes (thanks to their washing machine). Please note we did put down a drop sheet and newspaper to limit our grubby impact as its best not to offend a kind host. 


Day 9: Mountain? What Mountain?
Ohakune to Mangaweka 96km.
After raiding the old style Lollyshop in Ohakune for sugary sustenance we headed along the undulating back roads out of town. Rolling along all we can see of the majestic Mount Ruapehu is its' snow dusted feet. It looked chilly and damp when we were starting off and even lightly rained, but five minutes down the road we were peeling off rain gear as we were now basking in glorious sunlight. Rolling country back roads took us through the middle of a herd of fiesty young bulls on the move from paddock to paddock and past an unconcerned farmer that did less herding than we did.  A nice grassed shoulder beside the gravel section of the road provided a pleasant lunch stop. Soon enough we popped onto Highway 1 and peddled on to Taihape for the obligatory giant corrugated Gum Boot photo. We hit the Taihape local New World supermarket and early Chinese takeaway dinner. Tottering down the state highway with full stomachs we pottered up Heartbreak Hill and down again to the white gorge walls of Mangaweka. In the second holiday park based in a domain of the trip, we stayed the night in the sports ground tuck shop that had been converted into a bunk cabin. 


Day 10:Windy hills. 
Mangaweka to Pahiatua 144km.
Leaving Mangaweka we ambled gradually up and out of the gorge depths into logging truck and sheep keeping country. We followed "The Country Road" section of the NZ Cycle Trail instead of dealing with the madness of Highway 1. At Rangiwahia we decided to keep the increasing wind at our backs and travel to Palmerston North in a zigzag fashion to keep the wind our ally. It was a good decision and the increasing wind shoved us along and had us scrambling for our rain gear in Kiwitea. A chilly squal later saw us and many other patrons purchasing hot pies at the Cheltenham "corner" store. Soon it was a case of rain gear off as the gale force winds forcefully assisted us all the way to Ashurst. The price paid for all the windy assistance was horrible crippling cross winds half of the way into Palmerston North till we reached the shelter of the Manawatu river paths. A excursion into Palmeston North city centre revealed a Burger Fuel restaurant as our first dining option. We looked no further for a early dinner! Woohoo kumara fries! As Pahiatua was our destination we ground up and over Pahiatua track past the thrashing wind turbines. We ended up in our one and only hotel room of the entire trip. Pahiatua has extremes of accomodation; the cheap "Carnival" camp grounds which had cabins, but they were booked out weeks ahead or the expensive (for us) hotel. We decided on the hotel room due the length of the day just past and the threat of crap weather that night. The luxury of a bathroom all to ourselves was nice as well.


Day 11: Baa, Ram, hills...
Pahiatua to Masterton 77km.
Leaving Pahiatua we daudled along tring to get in the goove for the day. We were riding country roads again to connect to our next bit of trail, the Rimutaka cycle trail (day 12). Today's route took us along some of the Manawatu cycle way and Route 52. The Nga Haerenga/Nz Cycle Trail signs were well placed along the entire day's route of an easy 77km, making navigation a diddle! Almost nothing of note bar sheep and farms caught our eye, it's a lovely but unremarkable part of the country to travel. Sheep, sheep and sheep were the only livestock I recall from this section. There were no services at Alfredton except Domain camping, toilets and water. Our lunch stop for the day was a livestock loading ramp where a wandering German retiree traveller riding a reasonably fresh looking ex rental mountain bike joined us. When packing up from lunch I discovered I had a broken spoke and so added that to our list of things to sort that afternoon in Masterton. Masterton was reached only a hour after lunch. After pitching the tents at the Holiday Camp we daudled into town surprised by the extremely bike considerate motorists to get supplies and be unintentionally stalked by the German traveller. Washing, wheel trueing, bag patching, food shopping, clothes washing, sunset photographing, and trans Cook Straight ferry booking, it all happened that afternoon.


Day 12: The Crack! (I love my Spot tracker)
Masterton to Lower Hutt (Wellington) 103.6km.
On the morning of day 12 we roared along highway from Masterton to Greytown assisted by a partial tailwind.  As my brother and I neared the last 3km into Featherston we were buffeted by blustery cross winds. Even our semi-fat tyres couldn't keep us on the road all the time. Lunch in Featherston saw the gale force wind die down. Thankfully we had a tail wind gently shoving us toward the Rimutaka Incline Cycle Trail. 
The starting singletrack joyfully ridden we pottered up the rail trail section. Gusts started licking the sides of the range a little too lovingly. By the time we reached the Little Siberia section the winds amour was more like domestic violence.  While taking photo a gale ripped up valley, in the very same location as the famous train derailment due to wind, flicked my bikes back wheel out and over, and that was a fully loaded bike! I pushed up to the ahead tunnel and rode through noticing that bike felt funny and sluggish. At the tunnel exit I stopped, looked down and noticed a crack at the chainstay-dropout junction. Bugger! There was only one thing to do, and something that we had packed for; a Zip tie fix. It is something that the Cooke Bro's are famous for, and my brother plied his expertise well. We limped along trail through the expansive last tunnel to Summit station and started trundling down what could have been a blistering downhill. When in mobile phone signal range I contacted Mr Rohloff Nz, who I was due to meet that afternoon.  He said he would meet us and tracked us down using the Spot Tracker Share page that updated our progress every 10minutes. He offered to pick us up and take us into town. Mr Rohloff NZ knew someone who might be able to fix the frame Sunday. Our ferry was booked for the very next day (Saturday) I graciously declined his offer and vowed to limp into our Lower Hutt accommodation along the riverside trails, for if this was to Bev the last day of the CBNZB I was going to ride while the zip ties held! Mr Rohloff said he would be intouch as he had other options to explore. We continued along the gentle riverside trail, the bike behaving fine apart from pinchy up hill sections where a concerning creak eminated from the MacGyvered fix. The trail popped out onto a suburban street and we heard a frantic beeping of a car horn. It was Mr Rohloff who had again tracked us down thanks to his local trail knowledge and assistance from Mr. Spot Tracker (best birthday gift ever from my wife and in-laws!). Our solution was his man Brendon that had access to an Arc welder. My Machinist brother had doubts about our success but half an hour later my frame was fixed with metal chewing gum and tacky grey undercoat. We would make our ferry date after all!
 
Day 13: The High Country
Picton to Molesworth Station 150km.
It was raining in Wellington as we woke up early and packed our gear on the bikes. Thankfully our Marshguard, down tube fender, rear mudguards combined with the rain blocking capability of the frame bags kept the wheel flung road puddles off us, for there is nothing worse than having soaked gear on a long days ride, and today was going to be a LONG day. Off we scarpered to the ferry via the main road into Wellington central. It was slightly damp outside by this time but no heavy rain. We took a page out of wives organisational playbook and checked in 35 minutes early before the masses arrived. It was a good thing too as we missed out on a bus load of people and a epic line up at the check in counter. The ferry journey saw brother dear catching up on some sleep and I making a futile attempt to get blog entries up to date, while weathering a choppy Cook Straight. 

From Picton to Blenhiem there was a gentle tailwind and we made good speed. Along the road we again found the property called Rivendell that my wife and I spotted on our honeymoon tour of New Zealand. Random stranger questions answered and supplies for the next two days were collected in Blenhiem at New World. We sauntered along country roads towards Young's Pass. After a few darn uphill kilometres of gravel road we stopped to collect filtered melt river water.  The river gorge was so wide that it took a few minutes to walk from the spring melt banks down to the relative trickle of the summer river. Slowly after sheep herding, speeding farmer dodging and seeming eons of climbing the Sun's light started to fade. Sunset was at 9pm, a concept that was quite startling coming from Queensland, the land of no daylight savings. Twilight seemed to drag on for another hour and our riding uphill dragged on for another four past that. It was an epic day, 10hours in the saddle saw us reach camp at 2am Sunday morning. It was a grindathon, but there was no other source of easily accessible water or sanitation, we had to make camp at Molesworth Station DOC campsite. Our pinky toes went numb and yellow in the process of pedalling there in the descending temperatures, but we got there... again thanks to Klite Dynamo lights. Cold and sweaty we hastily put up the tents and decided a head torch illuminated sponge bath was the only solution. So walking a kilometre in ether direction so as to not view any brotherly nudity we worked from top down, removing dirty section of clothing, hastily sponge washing and quickly donning clean apparel. Bed was very welcome as a source of warmth after all this as you can imagine. 


Day 14: Molesworth Station. 
Molesworth Station Camp to Hanmer Springs 85km.
The repeated slamming of the long drop toilet door by fellow campers at 7am woke us to our gritty sleep deprived reality. Four hours sleep, blearg! The friendly on site ranger pottered over to say hello and speculated that we must have arrived late and was subsequently gobsmacked when I told him it was actually early morning. We broke camp, paid the meager fees for our meager stay and rode up the road to discover our campsite had been a sheltered river bend in the high alpine valley nestled between snow carved mountains. The scenery was so vast that panoramic photos were needed to suitably capture it all. As it was a public access road through a privately owned station, there was regular stock gates to open and close, open and close... To say we developed a system of thoroughfare would be a blinkin understatement. It was epic scenery, and probably seemed to us even more epic due to our physical and emotional baking from the almost endurance race that was yesterday. After Isolated Valley, which really was quite spectacularly isolated, we stopped beside the Severn River for lunch. The rice crackers that we had now hauled over 150km of gravel roads as part of lunch were now looking a bit worse for wear, but still tasted good. We filtered more almost pristine snow melt water from the river and continued on our merry way. The gravel roads lasted till the outskirts of Hanmer Springs, 80km in grey gravel totality. My 29+ front wheel steamrolled over all the road irregularities and ensured I had an enjoyable ride. Snow melt carved river gorges extended almost all the way to Hanmer Springs, but excluded our insane descent into Hanmer via Jollies Pass Road. Note to self; we should have taken right turn and followed the NZ cycle trail signs, not turned left onto Jollies Pass Road! As we awaited our well earned rides end  burgers, three lots of inquisitive people passing by stopped to ask questions about bikes, tyres and where it was that we had traveled from. Before heading to the holiday park and our powerless cabin a passerby couple inquired in a German accent; "are you sponsored by Rohloff?"


Day 15
Crack 2 and Cracking
Hanmer Springs to Glentunnel
180km. 
Day 15 started with the spectacularly crap realisation that I had a crack in my frame. Same dropout, disc brake side, just beyond the chewing gum weld acquired in Wellington. I was firmly told by dear machinist-guru brother that tarmac only was my option for getting to Queenstown. To say that I was unhappy would be an understatement, but I didn't have the luxury of moping this day. My brother and I had a fair distance to travel and weather conditions we shaping up to be rather helpful; full sun, nary a cloud and a rather brisk tail wind.
We scarpered along past the impressively eroded Weka rocks and stated our mid morning hunger at the superb bakery at Culverden. The cracker tailwind shoved us into Rangiora by mostly side roads and an extremely short stint on the main highway. They were back roads and tedious roads. Straight for kilometres and only palatable with the saucy assistance and much needed distraction of headphones, the backroads were delightfully vacant of cars. We arrived at the tiny town of Glentunnel before nightfall and pitched our tents under the seemingly peaceful bows of a willow free. We were to learn what a mistake that was in the early hours of tomorrow.  
Day 16
The straight and narrow
Glentunnel to Geraldine: 111km
This day would be remembered for its grey skies, straight roads and light brisk showers that careened through the country side pushed by our dear friend tailwind. Oh, and the misadventure of the early morning neighbours. An unwanted immigrant, the territorial brushtail possum decided to grumble its territorial discordant song at 2am. Argh! The country side is even more uneventful closer to the east coast, so we were happy to have scenic mythic Rakaia Gorge and the cloud draped Mount Hutt to entertain and distract. As in the North Isle, there was the public place Moa sculptures memorialising megafauna lost for locals and providing photo opportunities for the inevitable snaphappy tourists. The small town of Mount Somers provided a nice lunch stop and a reasonably stocked general store and was certainly worth the slight detour off the main road. Thankfully tailwind assisted we reached Geraldine mid afternoon and broke the days tedium by resupplying at the local supermarket, availing ourselves of a fine feed of the local interpretation of Chinese takeaway and a haphazard game of campsite giant chess. 

Day 17
A Fairlie Windy AND Crack 3
Geraldine to Lake Tekapo: 92km. 
Day 17 was supposed to be a gentle easy 77km doddle up to the highland plateau to where all of the South Islands Lakes reside. We dawdled leaving Geraldine thinking all was well. Little did we know that just 'round the corner' was our payback for all the tailwind assistance that we had enjoyed thus far. The gusty and at times gale force headwind battered us and sent the fields writhing all along the straight and increasingly upward roads all the way to our lunchtime diversion of Fairlie. Just before Fairlie our third equipment failure of the trip occurred. The seat pack rack on my brothers bike snapped. Not a catastrophic failure as the pack could be easily attached to his seat and we continue onwards. The relocation of the pack would mean the he would be unable to use his dropper post, a device that we both had and that enabled both of us to manoeuvre our loaded rigs with great aplomb when on dirt descents. What this failure did cement was our acceptance of the 'no dirt' policy for the rest of trip. It was now time to scoot frantically onward to our end destination: Queenstown.  From Fairlie and its tourist invasion we soldiered onwards past wallaby road kill (yes! Wallabies in the South Island!) to the wind beaten alpine flowers of Burkes Pass. Had it not been for out semi fat tyres (26+ and 29+) and moderate bikepacking load we would certainly have been unceremoniously dumped into the off shoulder gravel by the bulling headwind. As we neared Lake Tekapo we noted a wall of tremulous cloud that hovered menacingly in the mountains above the lake. Spurred on by the frantic need to pitch the tents before the weather turned to custard we scarpered into Lake Tekapo just before 8.30pm. Our average speed for the day: 13.5km/hr. Applying some previously acquired camping experience we pitched our tents under the lowest limbs of pine trees to limit the amount of actual rain and wind buffeting that would reach us. Hunkering down in our largest tent we devoured our meagre dinner as the hovering malevolent front descended from Mount Cook to deliver its gift of cold squally rain. Lessons learned from this day; lightweight tents that you can sit up in kick the ass of bivy style tents when the weather turns ugly.


Day 18
The Big Blue
Lake Tekapo to Omarama: 89km
As we knew that the evil headwind would not be an issue and that we had hardly any elevation gain this day we backtracked into Lake Tekapo village for an indulgent breakfast at the local bakery. Last nights meagre dinner stomach demons banished we continued onwards. The snow capped mountain brethren of Mount Cook mesmerised and taunted us from afar as we swung southwards. More agony ensued as we passed the Lake Tekapo hydroelectric canal and its accompanying gravel service road that bicycles are allowed to use as a connector to spectacular Lake Pukaki, part of the 'dirt' that we now had to miss. Tourists, the lifeblood of many a town of the South Island, thoughtfully gave us plenty of room on the roads and examined us curiously at the salmon farm attraction at azure Lake Pukaki's end. Had 'dirt' not been off the menu we would have used the hydroelectric canals and Alps to the Ocean (A2O) trail sections to take us off road all the way to Omarama. Instead we enjoyed a gentle tailwind, copious alpine wildflowers on the roadside and a gentle decent into Omarama for a early check-in at the always welcoming Top 10 Holiday Camp. We splurged on a simple bunk cabin to make for a quick departure in the morn. Tomorrow: up and over the Lindis Pass and a scarper to Queenstown.

Day 19
Mountains!
Omarama to Frankton (Queenstown): 171km
The road out of Omarama is paved in the grippy gravel version of hot mix bitumen. With the snow and winter weather experienced here it's quite understandable, but gosh darnit!, it's slow going on a semi-fat bike. We pottered up Lindis Pass and stopped on the Pass to kit up for the descent. From my experience of riding the Pass last time it's always blinking colder on the downside, so we put our warmest stuff on and we were happy that we did. We looked like bandits. Bandits without a stage coach to hold up and horses of steel. Conscious of time we tore downwards toward Tarras and after a brief stop to observe a carpark collision, continued onward at a brisk pace past the 42nd parallel to Cromwell. In Cromwell we tap danced through the cobbled mall with our cleated and toe spiked mtb shoes from one side to other to find the post office. The Kiwi Post office held our package sent from Thames that we now needed for our eventual Queenstown departure. Of course Queenstown was now our destination, and there was no other way of getting there other than the serpentine road that follows Kawarau Gorge. Its a scenic and historically interesting route, but the self important drivers motoring along the winding highway road are generally not that cyclist considerate. After the mad scurry to get to Cromwell, we were a bit frayed around the edges, so the almost nonexistent road shoulder and vapid drivers had us worn thin. A lot of the Nga Harenga trail that we had observed in the South Isle thus far was technically easy trail, with good, smooth surfaces. This observation and our automotively vexed state of mind pushed us to the "oh stuff it!" breaking point. If the Fargo frame was going to snap, let it snap on trail! So amongst the Gibbston Wineries we gleefully let our tyres kiss gravel trails again and rode across the Kawarau river bridge and along the section of the New Zealand Cycle trail that led into Queenstown. It was indeed smooth gravel and not really technical at all in comparison to the other trails that we had ridden thus far on this trip. The trails were immensely enjoyable and afforded fantastic views of the river and of the mountains.
It was a shame that our next day was to be spent cleaning all our gear thoroughly so that Mr. Customs at the airport would be happy, as there was kilometres of other trails between Arrowtown and Queenstown to be explored. Frankton, not Queenstown (just 8km away) was to be the finish of our day, as there is a quirky but reasonably appointed "Motor Camp" there that doesn't cost you an appendage or two as the rest of Queenstown does. Frankton is also the location of the Queenstown airport, so our lamented departure after tomorrows "Clean-a-thon" will be easy. Frankton is also at the bottom of Lake Wakatipu and at the base of the Remarkable Mountains, making every toddle out the front door a wondrous scenic overload. It was certainly a delicious place to finish our journey, but bittersweet that we had to depart New Zealand only a day from now. 


In total we rode 2120 kilometres from Auckland to Queenstown in 19 days.
At an average of 112km per day. We also climbed a total of 24,525metres, that's 1291m per day.

There was so much more amazing trails that we could have ridden, and so much more epic scenery to experience. We so need more than a 21day leave pass from the Spouses next time!