No Rest for the Wicked

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No Rest for the Wicked Claire Goldsworthy The beer went down a treat. Ajug of Speight's Old Dark under a scorching sun in the relaxed ambience of an Arrowtown garden bar. We raised our glasses in a toast, knowing that the last 20 km to Queenstown would bring our 10-day cycle trip to an end. A warm, satisfied feeling washed over me as I cast my mind back over the events of the last ten days. "he hostess at the Air New Zealand counter peered at us with undisguised annoyance. Boxing Day morning and she was faced with three happy holidaymakers, 3b bikes, and numerous panniers and bags. She asked us again, this time with less patience, how many bags we had between us. Weg glanced at each other, shrugged and threw a few numbers around. In exasperation she began the onerous task of attaching labels to our numerous bags and consequently forgot our excess baggage charges. The plane landed with a heavy bump and we disembarked into a sunny, warm Canterbury morning. The Arthur's Pass shuttle van pulled up and we climbed in. Arthur's Pass township was busy. After a relaxing lunch we were on our way, grinding up to the Pass in the afternoon heat, the towering peaks of the national park a welcome distraction. The last steep section up to the Pass brought us to the crest from where we would launch off on a hair-raising descent to the Otira Gorge far below. We flew down the steep switchbacks and regrouped near the bottom; the exhilaration of the descent was mirrored in our eyes and gleeful smiles. The afternoon heat was scorching. We pulled into Jackson's Pub to celebrate the start of our trip with a cool beer. A West Coast pub crawl seemed tol be on the cards and we resolved to take our opportunities to try a few of the Coast's beers during our travels. This was a great scheme until we climbed back on our En route to Lake lanthe Steve Patience bikes and wobbled off down the highway. Eventually the inevitable could no longer be avoided. The sky was overcast next morning. The first drops of Bracing ourselves for the damp conditions we set off in rain beat a steady rhythm on our helmets as we headed search of a campsite at Lake lanthe. What followed can south to Lake lanthe for the night but. The weather was best be described as comical, although we didn' 't think less than ideal so there was no rush. The scenery is that as we retraced our steps, so to speak, from thel lake lovely on this stretch of highway; the road wound back upt the one kilometre stretch of highway we hadj just through stands of beech forest and eventually ap- sped down with free abandon, despite Stuart's attempt proached a cluster of buildings at Pukekura where we to alert me to the fact that he thought the turn-off was found our progress impeded by a giant sandfly. There at the top of the hill and not thel bottom. We completed was no option - we were forced to take shelter from the the grind back to the top of the hill and followed a forrain in a warm and cosy café that just happened to serve estry road that we hoped would lead us through the bush exquisite muffins and delicious chocolate cake. to a campsite beside the lake, as marked on our map. Tramping and Mountaineering 1997

After a fruitless search we abandoned that idea and Okarito Beach is an awesome, rugged place. The Tasman headed back down the hill once again to camp in the Sea crashes onto the stony shore in thundering waves picnic area beside the lake. and the backwash is incredibly strong. We abandoned the idea of a swim but the opportunity for a paddle in Dinner was unwittingly shared with thei irritating swarms the cool water couldn't be missed, although we kept a of West Coast sandflies. Copious volumes of insect re- wary eye on the surf pounding the beach. pellents didn't appear to deter them with any success and many fell victim to a hefty swat from time to time. The sunset on Mts Cook and Tasman was magnificent as Stuart disappeared into the lake for a swim as night fell was the moonrise over Mt. Adams. Stars filled the sky but Steve and were wary of thel long black eels we were as we headed for our pits and a perfectly clear morning sure would be lurking in the dark depths of the lake. greeted us. We had a look around the lagoon before cruising back to the We awoke to the main highway, about steady patter of rain 13 km away. on the tent - or SO we thought. Actually, At this point, our it was hoardes of paths crossed with sandflies beating the Vermont Cycle themselves senseless Touring Company, between the inner which organises biand outer layers of cycle tours of the the tent. Steve was al- South Island for ready up, swatting at Americans who cycle the swarms of little as much or as little of black beasts as he each day's route as tried to study. they want, while their gear is carried in sup- Mince pies and cream port vans. We were buns in Harihari fortito see a lot of this fied us for the climb bunch over the next over the Pillar ofHerfew days as we travcules. The blue sky elled the same route. abandoned us and the grey clouds dumped It was a hot, sunny, their load as we bewindless day as we gan the climb. The continued south past Whataroa pub was a Lake Mapourika. pleasant lunch stop, Franz Josef was busy another opportunity as we stopped at a for a West Coast beer. a café for lunch - pure Despite the rain, it luxury, and no pita was warm and we bread! We heard the could see blue sky in one o'clock news and the west. Optimistic found it amusing that that the weather was the Coromandel was finally going to clear being evacuated due we set off for Okarito, to a cyclone. Prior to arriving a couple of the trip Ihad copped hours later in brilliant Grinding up to Knight's Point Steve Patience a lot of flack about sunshine. We set up heading to the West our tent before head- Coast for Xmas, as ing down to the beach for a walk and a paddle. As we everyone seemed to find it necessary to remind me that wandered past a neighbouring campsite we exchanged it always rains on the Coast at Xmas. We would have the cordial greetings with the occupants whose 4WD looked last laugh as we basked in scorching hot temperatures like it had never seen any off-road action in its life. We beneath glorious blue skies! surmised that the owner probably lives up a steep driveway to require such a vehicle. In a voice just loud enough There are three huge hills between Franz Josef and Fox for us to hear, the guy commented to his companions Glacier andlknew this would be a good test for myl knee that if we were heading down to the beach for a swim which had coped well thus far We cycled out to take a he would instruct the police to pick our bodies up at look at the Franz Josef Glacier, before continuing on our Farewell Spit in a few days. We didn't reply, wondering way south. It was mid-afternoon by this stage and the if he knew something that we didn't. next 23 km were to prove gruelling. Tramping and Mountaineering 1997

Steve riding the swingbridge over the Makarora River Claire Goldsworthy Wej puffed up the first hill, making the most of the shade. A diversion to have a look at the Fox Glacier was next The views of the Southern Alps and the steep, bushclad on the agenda before heading south in the hot afternoon hillsides were superb. The second saddle was eventually sun. We stopped briefly at the Jacob's River school to reached and we stopped for another rest. The afternoon allow Steve to indulge in his childhood passion of swingwas wearing on but the heat didn't seem to be abating. ing. A campsite beside the Mahitahi River with excep- Another fast descent brought us to the bottom of thel last, tional views of the Alps was soon found and the lure of and undoubtedly, ugliest climb of the three. It began SO the clear, green river could not be avoided. Shrieks of steeply that a sign indicating a steep gradient was posted fright at the cold water pierced the air as we leapt into at the bottom of the hill! the river, buti it felt great to rinse off the sweat and grime. An old Holden rumbled past and - I listened for the tell- New Year's Eve dawned with another fine, clear day and tale change in engine noise that would indicate it had our faces were smug as we extracted ourselves from our reached the top of the hill. Alas, it still seemed to be nylon furnace. A leisurely breakfast of cereal and sandclimbing as the engine noise dwindled away. Daydreams flies saw us on our way and we cruised along the mostly took over and eventually I rounded a bend to see the deserted roads, stopping at Lake Paringa for morning tea Cook River Flats and the Tasman Sea in the distance. I and a swim in the lake. Stuart and headed for the wafelt elated as I settled in for the long downhill to Fox ter, while Steve displayed a determined reluctance. We Glacier. It was a blast and enjoyed every centimetre of exclaimed loudly and repeatedly how warm it was until road that raced beneath my wheels! Steve felt compelled to join us. He didn't share our enthusiasm for the water temperature and after a quick dip, We cruised into Fox Glacier township and stopped for returned to the shore to warm up. al beer at the Cook's Horn in the early evening sunshine. Wel kicked back and soaked up the atmosphere of a great Revived and refreshed we continued on past Lake West Coast spot. It was still hot and a steak dinner and Moeraki to a spot beside the Whakapohai River for another beer in the sun seemed like a grand idea. The lunch. The heat was intense and the popping tar was a spectacular colours of the sunset painted the peaks of constant reminder of just how hot it was. The road Mts Cook and Tasman a brilliant orange as the sun wound up around bluffs with spectacular views up and dipped below the horizon in a fiery ball. down the coast. A rest stop at thel lookout above Knights Point gave us a chance to feast on the rugged scenery but The morning dawned clear and calm and we set off for we were soon on our way, keen to reach Haast. Lake Matheson to check out the famous reflections of Cook and Tasman in the dark, moody waters of the lake. The mountains were shrouded in cloud the next morn- The Vermont bikers straggled in as we were leaving and ing as we headed for Haast Pass. The Americans were we contemplated infiltrating their groupin order to par- also travelling over the Pass that day, but none would take in their delicious-looking lunch. Alas, Stuart's height ride the Pass itself. They were curious about how we couldn't be concealed; he was much too obvious. So were going to get over thel Pass, and asked us where our honey and salami sandwiches it was, with the special support vehicles were. They found it difficult to fathom treat of an ice cream to top it off. why we would want to ride several hundred kilometres Tramping and Mountaineering 1997

A quick descent from the top ofthe Crown Range Road Steve Patience in our Christmas break with heavily-laden bikes. Steve Albertown, on the banks of the Clutha, was our destinaliked to refer to them as the "candy-assed Americans" tion for the night. We set up camp and headed into and kept us amused with his imitations of their expres- Wanaka for a beer and dinner, running into the leaders sions and accents. of the Vermont bikers. Tales were told over a few beers and it was great to relax in the pleasant surroundings. A photo stop at Haast Pass, thel lowest point on the Main Darkness had fallen by the time we rode the few kilo- Divide, saw us fighting off swarms of hungry sandflies. metres back to our campsite; thel beers and pizza at Kai Reluctant to share myj jelly beans with them and unable Whaka Pai had fortified the guys and they rode like luto fend them off with vicious clouts, we sped off down natics all the way back. into Otago to an idyllic campsite at Cameron Flat. Asunny day beckoned us from our pits. Our cycle tour I can't recall how the plan was hatched, but before we would end in Queenstown before the day was out and knew it we were egging each other on to have a swim at feeling of satisfaction was already setting in; however, in the icy Blue Pools. We changed into our togs and there were still 80 kilometres between us and our desstood thwacking our legs and arms as thet ferocious sand- tination, the crux being the climb over the highest flies feasted on our blood. "You go first", "No you go", motorable road in New Zealand, reaching a height of and the sandflies had a jolly old feast as we dithered 1080m at the Crown Saddle. The Cardrona Valley around to see who would be brave enough to launch off seemed interminable but we eased the monotony by the rocks into the frigid water below first. We finally grading the death poses ofvarious small furry and prickly agreed to jump together on the count of three. creatures whose corpses littered the road. Frigid is an apt description and we shrieked in terror as Beyond the Cardrona Pub the dusty, winding road took we plunged into the freezing water. The large rainbow its toll as it climbed steeply into the distance. Nearing trout swimming lazily in the pool took fright and was the top the road levelled off and a long rest stop in the seen no more. The only benefit seemed to be that the sun allowed us to soak up the views. Lake Wakitipu sandflies were now decidedly less interested in us. Since sparkled in the hot sun and we could see the peaks of wel had survived thei initial plunge we egged each other the Aspiring and Fiordland national parks. Queenstown on for another go. Three jumps later we weret feeling re- was still a little way off though, and we dragged ourfreshed and clean. The sandflies renewed their interest selves away and sped down to where the road flattened in us, prompting a quick change back into sweaty out on the Crown Terrace. The last few kilometres into clothes. Steve couldn't resist the lure of the footbridge Arrowtown was a pleasant doddle and we headed and rodel his bike back across it while L captured the mo- straight for the garden bar of one of the pubs to toast the ment on film. successful conclusion (almost) of a fantastic South Island journey. Great company, excellent scenery, awesome The morning brought with it grey clouds. We rode into weather, and the satisfaction of a trip completed. Makarora and feasted on home-made goodies at the café before continuing on to Lake Hawea for lunch, by which The Team: Claire Goldsworthy, Stuart Palmer and Steve time the sun was shining. The DOC campsite at Patience. Tramping and Mountaineering 1997