Cranking the Rainbow - Molesworth

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Cranking the Rainbow - Molesworth Claire Goldsworthy "Please take your seats while the crew demonstrates emergency procedures, "the Captain ofthel Lynx said over the ship's intercom. We are finally on ourway, with fourd day's mountain biking the Rainbow Molesworth ahead of US. M y troops consist of nine blokes aged from 24 to 50, andl notice with some concern the absence of any other women on the trip. The burden of upholding the standards of decency and decorum will rest squarely on my: shoulders! With no fish n' chips on the menu, I settle for a lump ofl bread, the name of which Ican't pronounce, and the troops settle back, glancing up to catch a glimpse of the slow ferry as we race past. Ah, this is definitely the way to cross the ditch. The Rainbow Valley Claire Goldsworthy Deposited on the Mainland in no time "I've never had a puncture on this bike juicy, fat, ripel blackberries and we stop at all, we squeeze our bikes into the in the 3 years I've had it," Stuart for a feast. van's trailer before blasting off to the declares. No sooner are the words Wairau Valley and our drop-off point uttered than a loud hissing noise Midday looms and a pleasant lunch at the start of thel Rainbow Valley road. invades the tranquillity ofas sunny Good spot in the gorge is declared suitable. Ther night is clear and the moon shines Friday morning. Allen stays to assist Allen builds a firet to boil up a brew but brightly as we set off in search of a while ther rest ofus amble on to Six Mile too: soon, lunch is over andwe are back campsite. Threel kilometres on, we find Creek to wait in the sun. on the bikes, grinding up the next hill. an excellent spot under the trees The scenery is changing rapidly now between the cowpats. There are many interesting views along to tussockand rocky, exposedhillsides, the way but the troops aren't mucking and we'vel been climbing, gradually at Matt's typhoid injection of the previous about. Photo stops become a harried first, but now more persistently, all day. day is causing him problems. We are affair: slow down, stop, dismount, AI keen southerly is making things hard sympathetic, but his breakfast remains rummage, point, focus, adjust and the constant uphill travel is tiring untouched andl he sets off ahead off the aperture, focus, oh what the hell, click, the troops. rest of the party. A few kilometres on reverse the process, and bolt up the we find Matt sprawled on the grass, valley to catch my disappearing troops. Island Saddle is cunningly positioned looking very unhappy. He opts to return An exhausting process and not So that as you approach it you can only to St Arnaud andy wel hover like vultures, conducive with producing exceptional see part of the road ahead not unlike pouncing on various items of food as photos. aD Disneyland queue! Lulledi into afalse they emerge from his panniers. The sense of security, we are dismayed to groupsets off, leaving Matt lying in the As short distance on, Jon's front rackhas grind around a corner a short distance sun. Not a bad Trip Leader I've performed a remarkable somersault to into the climb to discover that the road managed to shed one punter before land on the road in front of his bike. A winds and twists, relentlessly steeply, we've cycled 10kms! few punters are gazing in awe, butwith to the distant saddle. Darn, I may have a bit of kiwi ingenuity and a stretchy, to walk some of this, I resolve. The Wairau Valley is a pleasant cycle ther rack isrestoredtoi its proper position ast theroad winds in and out of pockets and the troops continue up the valley. Grinding upwards painfully slowly, ofl beech forest. The mountains of the heart thumping, lungs screaming,lam Raglan Range on one side and the St A concrete bridge crosses the Wairau determined not to be the first to Arnaud Range on the other keep a beyond the confluence of the Rainbow dismount. Glancing backl Inotice with majestic vigil over the Wairau River as and Wairau Rivers and we are afforded some relief that four of the troops itt tumbles and dances on its journey to great views of Mt Paske and the behind me are now walking, but one the sea. Rainbow. Allen's hawkeyes spot some stubborn old bloke is still grinding TRAMPING & MOUNTAINEERING upwards. A few more metres andlglance behind to see that Brian has dismounted. Relieved, hop off and continue upwards, breathing heavily. Island Saddle is 1374m andi the highest point on the Rainbow Molesworth circuit. It's a relief to have it out of the way. With the southerly wind whipping at our layers we race down the other side of the saddle with free abandon. It's steep and rocky, and common sense tells me to take it slowly as I shake and shudder down the road. The weatheri isp packing in as we arrive at Lake Tennyson to look for a campsite. A snowclad peak peers briefly at US before Riding out of the clag into a sparkling morning Claire Goldsworthy shyly disappearing behind a cloak of cloud. Shelter is scarce, apart We race along beside the Clarence feel it is important to capture the from a thunder box, which will be a River, the kilometres rushing by moment for posterity sol quickly focus tight squeezet for 8, SO we pitch the flies beneath our wheels. It occurs to me the camera and press the shutter. on a flat spot andl hope the wind drops. that the speed we are travelling at is a little sacrilegious in view off fthet fact that After considerable fuss and bother the Sweet n' Sour Pork fills a gap, followed the scenery we are racing through with situation is remedied by swapping the by a brew and bed. The chatter barely a glance, is quite spectacular. tyres around (asuggestion madel by the eventually dwindles andldrift away on We are making excellent time on the only woman present) and some duct acloud of weariness and sleep deficit. gently downhill section from Lake tape, and we are on our way again. Some time later I awake with a start Tennyson to Eulalie Mound, in spite of However, barelyafewklometres down from a deep sleep, simultaneously several photo stops. the road a split appears in the newlytryingtot fight my way out of myf feathery switched rear tyre wall, demanding tomb, drawn tightly closed to keep out A morning tea stop is declared just further attention. Repairs undertaken, the chill night, while my left leg aches beyondHorrible Stream, which is quite we speed along on a fast, slightly fiercely with a severe cramp. "Aaargh! unlike its name. As we rest a 4WD club downhill section to the Acheron Lyndsay, I've got cramp, " I wince. speeds by and we return their curious Accommodation House. "Tense the muscle, he suggests stares and convivial waves. The dust quietly. More groaning, but this is a settles and the peace descends once Lunch in the sun is enjoyed limmensely nasty dose of cramp. Some minutes more. and then it is onward, grunting up the pass and the unwelcome cramp hill that will take US over a saddle to gradually subsides. Back on the bikes we soon pass St the Acheron River. Progress is good James Station. Abridge across the Styx and the trees, dressed in their autumn Low cloud and zilch views introduce River leads to a section of road that colours, addi to the beauty of this valley Saturday, andlstruggle out of my warm proves ideal for the "T& M draughting As the afternoon wears on, the troops pit to put al brew on. The troops begin train". Eight cyclists blasting along, become spread out as the long day in to stir, except Jon, who remains blindly trusting the rideri in front tol keep the saddle takes its toll. As we cross comatose until a call of "brew's up" to a safe line. The train comes to a thel bridge over the Severn River, some encourages some movement. As we screeching halt at the turnoff to Jacks of the others are nowhere to be seen. pack we peer skyward, predicting Pass, but we are soon in formation Reluctant to let warm, tired muscles hopefully that the clag will soon burn again for another fast stretch to. Jollies cool down at this late stage of the day off. A tiny patch of blue appears, Pass. A short distance later, Brian we push on, puffing up the climb to accompanied by enthusiastic draws our attention to a rather serious Isolated Saddle. Stuart, Jon, BJ and I exclamations. We set off, climbing tyre problem. set off for Isolated Flat in search of a slowly, and suddenly ride out of the campsite, while Allen waitst to boost the clag into a sparkling, clear morning. The blokes cluster round Brian's bike, morale of the remaining troops. The peaks that had tentatively peered gazing at the rips in both sides of the at US through the murk the previous tyre wallsi in the rear wheel. Thingslook An excellent campsite is located in a evening are gleaming in the freshness grim; worried frowns crease their small pine forest and some time later of a new day. brows; Brian swears. As the leader, I the others stagger in, in varying TRAMPING & MOUNTAINEERING and Brian and I give each other al high-five in triumph. I feel satisfied and grin stupidly. "There's no way l'm going to be cleaned up by an old smoker," I tell Brian emphatically. "Well, there's no way I'm going to be cleaned up by a girlie," - he replies. I guess we're even then! Beforel long we turn our backs ont the Acheron Valley and set off on the fast, gnarly descent to the Awatere Valley below, dodging several large bovine creatures en route. The road is steep and rocky but we enjoy the downhill after the earlier grunt. The "T&M draughting train", Clarence River Valley Claire Goldsworthy The next few kilometres to the Molesworth Station physical conditions. Brian displays a are: straight into the steep grunt to the Homesteadpassi in ablur ofundulating vast array of cuts, grazes, and Pass at 1100m. Stopping at the base terrain; short climbs followed by fast shredded skin, and Gerard regales US of the climb to shed my parka, I can descents, with exceptional views ofthe with the story, including rounding a see: some ofthet troops walking already Inland Kaikouras across the valley corner to be confronted by a crater in andlwonder howlongiill llast. Brian is the road, and a bloodied Brian trying just ahead, pedalling slowly and We speed along making excellent to unjam his derailleur with a fewwell- methodically, making steady progress. progress and stop to regroup at the placed kicks. Several plasters are The temptation to throw in the towel turnoff to the Molesworth Homestead. requiredi to cover the unsightly wounds and walk the hill is strong, but the Jon, however, is missing. We sit in the andi it's time to knock up a meal for the desire not to bel beaten by an oldbloke sun, and wait. We eat somer munchies, famished and weary troops. who smokes is even stronger. "How and wait. We stroll around, and wait. the heck does he do it?" I ponder We discuss the possibilities - bike Revived by a bombastic feed of Special wearily. A smoke with the morning failure, gear failure, minor crash, grisly Mac Cheese, the dinner conversation cuppa before he starts the day! crash and wait. I ride up the isl lively as BJ scurries around, blasting homestead road a short distance and US with his camera flash. The moon Keeping my eyes on the bike in front, I attract the attention of an excited stag rises, illuminating our campsite through ignore the pleas from my aching who gives me a hearty roar. make a the trees, and when the temperature muscles and continue grinding slowly feeble attempt at a reply roar which drops sharply a little later, we retreat up Wards Pass. This woman off fthe 90s fires the old beggar up even more, and to our tent flys. Jon and Gerard waste has a point to prove, although exactly he makes a determined rush at the no time starting their warm-up routine what that point is escapes me as fence separating me froml him. Idecide in preparation for the symphony of struggle upwards. My breathing is that caution is the better part of valour bottie coughs that frequently ragged, and just as I think Imust be at and ride back to rejoin the group. Still punctuates the peaceful silence off the thet top, Iround la corner to find ther road no sign of Jon! night. With. Jon on one side and Gerard climbing and winding into the distance. on the other, fear thatlmay asphyxiate I'm sure that Brian is just about stuffed The hill we have just descended in the night and never wake up. The and I will my aching legs to keep discourages any heroics of retracing cocktail of emissions is powerful rotating, determinedi nott to give up first. our tracks but after half an hour, indeed. Brian seems equally determined, as the concern is mounting. Allen and Stuart road steepens and we're still some volunteer to ride back in search ofJon The stars are still blinking shyly through distance from the top. and are in the process of unloading the trees in the morning as 1 crank up their bikes when he appears. We're the primus. The moon is shining I'm keen to check out the scenery as relieved to see he's in one piece but brightly in the west. An early start on each pedal stroke brings me slightly his bike has required some urgent this frosty morning sees the troops closer to the objective, but I fear the roadside maintenance. ambling along, watching warily for distraction could be my downfall so I Wards Pass which eventually looms focus on the road climbing steeply A short distance along the road we ominously ahead. A quick stop at the before me. I persevere and finally come to the Original Molesworth Saxton River to fill waterbottles and we reach the top. The relief is excellent, Homestead, an old cob cottage TRAMPING & MOUNTAINEERING surrounded by autumn-finted trees. lam astounded at the height of the roof over the porch. Evenlhave to duck! The kilometres are clicking away and progressi is steady. The undulating terrain makes for interesting riding and the towering peaks of the Inland Kaikoura Range add a dimension of scale to this picture. We amble along, enjoyingthet tranquillity ofthis beautiful valley After crossing the Castlel River, atributary oft the Awatere, we are faced with another long, steady slog as the road climbs up behind the hills to avoid a section of the main river. We: stopt for luncht before Original Molesworth Homestead Claire Goldsworthy the road drops steeply away on a fast descent to Lee Brook. grey, threatening clouds but on we, stopping him reaching his brakes. I push, watching for a campsite. We are grimace, not wishing to contemplate Upcot Saddle looks ominous on the keen to wrap it up for the day and at Jon careering down thel last hill without map but turns out to be a doddle, at Jordan we: find a suitable placet to camp touching his brakes. Such potential for least from the direction we approach beside a stream. Dinner is devoured unmitigated disaster! it. We gather on the saddle and note hungrily and we spend an enjoyable with dismay a build-up of cloud in the evening by the fire. Allen and Brian After all thel hills we've cycledi int the past northwest that seemst tol be spilling into entertain US with Tongue & Meat tales 4 days, Taylor Pass is a doddle. Before the Awatere Valley. The wind is also from long ago what a mild bunch we long we are speeding into Blenheim increasing as we set offt from the saddle are today in comparison. with the Tongue & Meat draughting in a high-speed descent. Eyes train cranked up to full pace. streaming and faces taut with An overcast, warm morning beckons excitement, we reach the gently me from ar restless slumber. We set off We sprawl out on the steps of the War undulating valley floor. What al blast! I in dribs and drabs up the hill, the road Memorial in Blenheim, making short stop to take a photo and watch as the winding in and out of gullies, until work oflunch, and spend the next few troops disappear into the distance. This eventually it's all downhill back to the hours brewing up and trying to change section of the Awatere is really Awatere Valley. As Stuart and I near the world. picturesque and I enjoy the solitude. thet top off thel hill, we glance back and The wind is much stronger now and spot a lone figure, crouching We set out on thel last leg of fouri journey our previously sunny, warm day is determinedly over his handlebars, from Blenheim to Picton later in the rapidly deteriorating into a cloudy, cool obviously in pursuit of something, afternoon, and making the most of afternoon. probably US. "Here comes Allen, giving some excellent team work, we race it death,"1comment. "Let's race: to the down the last hill into Picton, We regroup at thet turnoff to Gladstone bottom, hide in the scrub, and watch regrouping on the waterfront. Weh have and have a bite to eat. The wind is him race by." We laugh, conjuring up cycled at total of 320kms and the buzz strong and the next stage is going to an image of Allen screaming off down from this adventure will definitely last be tough, battling into the headwind. the valley trying to catch US. a while. The bridge over the Hodder River provides another opportunity to rest The descent to the Awatere is a blast. After hot showers we head off for and regroup and we enjoy thel last of Five kilometres downhill; not too steep dinner and a beer, content to while the sun before it disappears abruptly but quick enough. The dirt road away the time till the Lynx sails. A behind the grim-looking clouds. abruptly becomes a sealed road and thoroughly memorable trip, well worth we enjoy the respite from rocks and doing, with a great bunch of guys! As we pass Camden a rifle shot loose gravel, but just as abruptly as the destroys the peace of the valley. I dirt road ends, it begins again. A short Punters: Allen Higgins, Jon Parker, glance around quickly, counting my distance on Allen catches US and we Gerard Galvin, Stuart Palmer, Brian troops. All present and accounted for! glide along, chatting amiably. Jon Goodwin, Lyndsay Fletcher, Brian heave a sigh of relief and pedal on. approaches and mentions that the Johnston, and Claire Goldsworthy The blue sky has been replaced with gear on his jury-rigged front rack is (leader & scribe). TRAMPING & MOUNTAINEERING