Pedalling the Wide Open Spaces

Pedalling the Wide Open Spaces Most years over the last decade I have done a long tramping trip somewhere in the wilds of the South Island over the Christmas / New Year period, but the weather never seems completely settled at this time of year and we usually end up getting rain. So in 2002 we decided to give it a miss - thus of course ensuring a perfect stretch of unbroken sunny weather over the entire holiday period in the mountains of Mount Aspiring National Park, and indeed, if I remember correctly, the entire South Island! Instead, I joined Stuart Douce, Fiona Pratt, and Paul Jennings on a cycling trip on the Otago Rail Trail and the Dunstan Trail in Central Otago.

The Otago Rail Trail is a unique attraction, a 150kilometre cycle trail following the route of the old railway line through Central Otago from Middlemarch to Alexandra. When combined with the Dunstan Trail, the 19th century goldminers' original route across the ranges from Dunedin to Alexandra, it forms a brilliant 6-day circuit, which must rank as one of the best cycle-touring trips in the country.

We left Alexandra in the middle of the morning on the 30th of December, crossing the bridge over the Manuhereikia River and following the Rail Trail northward for a few kilometres. Then at Galloway we turned right, leaving the old railway behind us and following the Dunstan Trail across country to the east. Soon we began a steady upward climb to a saddle. The country was bare and the sun beat down upon us, while my legs ached with the effort, muscles unaccustomed to the exercise. Approaching the saddle, a stream flowed forth in a way that nature never intended a stream to flow, but when we reached the top we discovered it was really the outflow from an old water race that snaked horizontally around the opposite hillside.

A fast downhill run brought us to a lunch stop in the welcome shade of a farmer's hedge. In the afternoon, after a few more kilometres of flat going across the valley floor, we started the long, gradual, 400-metre uphill climb to Poolburn Reservoir, our destination for the day. The sun beat down unmercifully and sweat poured off us as we ground our way upwards through the spectacular landscape - bare, barren, and studded with jagged rock outcrops (one in the distance looked for all the world like a gigantic crouching rabbit!) Eventually we crested the final rise and there before us lay the reservoir. Dotted around the near shore were a dozen or more baches, mostly deserted, and we made our way around the shore to the left and found a camping spot in the lee of one of them. (In hindsight I think I would have continued on around the lake a bit further and found a more natural campsite without so many obtrusive signs of human occupation, but there was a small rise we had to cross and by that stage our legs were feeling like jelly!) That night I found a pleasant bivvy spot under an overhanging rock, from where, next morning, I was able to watch the dawn over the lake from the comfort of my sleeping bag!

Tramping & Mountaineering 2004

Harry Smith Next day, a kilometre past our campsite, we came to the outlet dam of the reservoir. We avoided a steep drop into the valley by riding across the top of the dam - being careful to avoid the vertical drop-off a metre or two to our left! The route then meandered through the desolate lunar landscape, until, just after an ancient and forlorn signpost marking a desolate intersection, we began to descend to the east. An awesome 600-metre descent brought us to the valley floor of the Upper Taieri Plain.

We turned right and headed south. The sun was sweltering (we learnt later that the temperature was recorded as 35 degrees in Dunedin that day, and it was probably more than that here), it was approaching lunchtime, and we were feeling knackered. We continued on up the gravel road, legs like rubber, the sun beating down, no shade anywhere. Towards the top of a rise we came across a large rock up the bank beside the road, and under an overhang was the only shade to be seen anywhere. This will do, we decided, and with relief we stopped, tucking ourselves in under the overhang like sheep sheltering from the sweltering sun.

While we were crouching there eating lunch, Paul went for a short walk up the hillside and came back to tell us that he had found a large irrigation canal only about 50 metres from where we were sitting! I immediately went up, stripped off, and dived in for what turned out to be the first of many swims on the trip. Nothing ever felt so good!

Refreshed from lunch and the swim, we soon arrived at the deserted settlement of Paerau, or Styx, at the foot of the Rock and Pillar Range to the east. This was a staging post on the Dunstan Trail in the 19th century, and now the quaint cottages and stables lie locked and deserted like a ghost town or outdoor museum. There is even an old jail!

Styx was like an oasis in a desert, an island of shade-giving trees, green grass, and a meandering, willow-lined river in the otherwise barren sun-baked landscape. Immediately beyond lay a steep, brutal, sun-baked, soul-destroying 400-metre-plus grunt up onto the range top, perfectly angled to catch the full force of the afternoon sun. Even though it was still quite early in the afternoon it seemed clear to me that Styx was where we would stay the night. This was paradise; going anywhere else was simply inconceivable.

Then Paul staggered me by suggesting that as tomorrow was a fairly long day, we should continue on up to the top of the range and camp up there for the night. Stuart, our leader, agreed with him. Lying in the cool grass under the shade of a rustling willow tree, I stared in disbelief, completely aghast. The idea of leaving this magical oasis of trees and grass, of shade and water, to grind up 400 metres in the baking sun and camp on some god-forsaken barren wind-swept tussock plateau seemed just too awful to contemplate, especially on New Year's Eve! Keenness and eagerness in youth is all well and good, but this was complete insanity!

Fortunately Fiona was on my side, two against two, but the others were persuasive and soon Fiona was wavering. Disbelieving, I almost came right out and told the other that they could go on if they liked, but I was most definitely staying put!

I can't remember now how the final decision was arrived at - I think I managed to stall sufficiently long enough that there was less merit in the idea of going on - but fortunately on this occasion democracy didn't win out and we decided to stay put! I went off and played in the river for what seemed like hours, and that night we dispensed with tents and slept out in the grass under the trees.

Next morning we were away early to tackle the Hard work climbing up onto the Rock & Pillar Range from Styx (Harry Smith)

Tramping & Mountaineering 2004 climb. It was hard and steep, but we were fresh and rested, and the full heat of the day had yet to hit us. Despite having to get off and walk some long chunks, within an hour we were at the top. If we had come up the previous day in the full heat of the afternoon sun I think it probably would have taken us twice as long, we would have arrived at the top completely knackered, and we would probably have taken an extra hour to get away in the morning. I think everybody now agreed that staying put had been the right decision!

From the range crest we undulated up and down across a desolate tussock landscape. These central Otago block ranges all seem to be like this - steep sides and flat, rolling tops. We paused to take our photos at a signpost marking the highest point of the crossing before cruising southwards past the huge reservoir occupying what used to be the Great Moss Swamp. This was big, impressive country, and the pedals whirled as the kilometres flew by.

Finally we came to the start of the descent, 300 metres in the space of about 3 kilometres, and soon we were at the bottom of the escarpment, filling our water bottles from a lovely, fresh, bubbling stream. It was too early for lunch so we carried on, up a rise and across a plateau through less interesting farming country, sweltering hot now in the baking sun, with no shade available. Then another steep descent brought us to a nice lunch spot with grass and willow trees beside the bridge over Deep Stream. Just upstream of the bridge was a good

The high point of the trip – on the summit of the Rock & Pillar Range (Stuart Douce)

swimming pool, and it wasn't long before I was in to cool off!

We had heard that the route from here out to the main highway was exhausting work, with lots of ups and downs, but we had a short-cut planned. Turning left, we followed a side road through Rocklands Station. A steep 150-metre climb beyond the station saw us all off our bikes and walking, and at the top we collapsed into the welcoming shade of a hedgerow and lay there panting like exhausted dogs. This was the hottest day of the trip, with the temperature well over 35 degrees!

A few easy kilometres brought us out to the main highway, and then we powered the remaining 20 kilometres into Middlemarch, where we collapsed in the shade in the picnic area beside the general store, gulping down ice creams and cold drinks. After stocking up on supplies, we headed out of town and found a pleasant campsite in amongst some bush beside the Taieri River. Again we didn't bother with tents.

Middlemarch marked the end of one trail and the start of another. We had travelled from Alexandra up and down across the grain of the country on the Dunstan Trail; now we were heading back to Alexandra in a big wide loop through the plains on the Rail Trail.

Tramping & Mountaineering 2004

For the first couple of hours the next day the Rail Trail cruised along at the foot of the Rock and Pillar Range, which towered up several thousand feet above us to the left. There is interesting country up there to explore some day, with unusual rock formations and apparently even a couple of tramping club huts. Roughly parallel to us ran the main road, but while it wound up and down over rises and into gullies, we cruised along smugly on a perfectly flat gradient, courtesy of the old railway cuttings, embankments, and bridges.

We stopped for lunch in the mouth of a tunnel, the only place we could find which offered any shade from the oppressive heat of the sun. Shortly after came the first major viaduct on the trail, the 32 metre high Price's Creek Viaduct, followed by the lovely enclosed gorge of the Taieri River, which we cruised along for several kilometres, with trees and wild flowers lining the route. After posing for photos at Red Dwarf Hut, a quaint old railway workers' hut, we emerged out onto the main highway. It was at this point that we noticed that Paul was missing.

A puncture, we decided, and settled ourselves down in the shade of a tree beside the road to wait. But when he hadn't turned up after another half hour we began to debate whether we ought to go back and look for him. But it was a hot day and I'm ashamed to say that nobody was very keen! Even if he had had a serious mechanical failure he could still walk out to where we were, we decided! Instead, I wandered down across the fields to the river for a swim, having missed out on one at lunchtime when we had been high above the river. When I got back, Paul had turned up. His derailleur had come off and he had lost the attachment bolt. Fortunately a couple of passing cyclists were able to help us carry out repairs.

Continuing on, we followed the winding course of the river until we found an idyllic campsite just south of Wapiata, where the trail crossed the river on another viaduct. As soon as we stopped the first thing I did was plunge in for another swim! And next morning while the others were still asleep I was back in again. The river was so warm, even first thing in the morning, that I could have stayed in for hours.

From the grass and trees and shade and meandering river of our campsite, we emerged out onto the flat, barren landscape of the Maniototo before a downhill run into the valley of the Ida Burn.

At Oturehua a sign for ice creams caught our attention and we pulled off the trail and over to the store. Walking inside, we were stopped in our tracks. It was like walking into another century. The place was like a cross between a general store and a museum. Shelves with old products and advertisements from the 1930's and 40's lined all the walls and large bins for grains and cereals were found around the edge of the floor. We sat and ate our ice creams on the seat outside and watched the world go by.

After Oturehua, the trail crosses to the other side of the Ida valley and begins gaining height. We were soon sidling along the hillside, high above the valley floor, approaching the narrow gap of the Poolburn Gorge cutting through the range to the west. Through it flows the Poolburn River, the same river which drains the Poolburn Reservoir, which we had camped beside on our first night. We had almost completed a large loop, and tomorrow we would close the circle when we arrived back in Alexandra.

We paused for photos at the spectacular Poolburn Viaduct, at 37 metres the highest on the whole trail, then followed the trail along the southern rim of the gorge, high above the river below. We passed through two tunnels, dark and

Red Dwarf Hut – land of the hobbits (Harry Smith)

Tramping & Mountaineering 2004 Plain. This was relatively boring farming land, though the encircling hills in the distance still provided some interest. We stopped at Ranfurly, the centre of the Maniototo, for morning tea at the art deco-style hotel, followed by a look around the museum. Then it was northwards across the rest of the plains before stopping for lunch at the picnic tables outside the pub at Wedderburn. Perhaps not surprising, the landscape could have been straight out of a Grahame Sydney painting!

From Wedderburn we had a fairly steep climb up to the highest point on the trail - the Wedderburn Summit, at 618 metres above sea level. We had actually climbed 400 metres since Middlemarch but most of it had been so gradual that we hadn't noticed! Here we posed for photos beside the marker plaque. A short distance further on we stopped again for more photos beside another plaque, this one marking latitude 45 degrees south, spooky, and curved so that you could not see the light at the end. I had to get my torch out and walk through these, following along close beside the walls. Then there was a downhill run to the Manuherikia Viaduct.

We planned to camp here by the river. Unfortunately we could not see any easy way down, so we ended up scrambling down a steep, rocky bank beside the edge of the viaduct, lugging our bikes awkwardly. We found a nice grassy shelf to camp on right underneath the buttress of the viaduct itself. That evening we had some rain and we put up the tents, the first time since the Poolburn Reservoir, but it passed over, and later on we had a campfire in the river bed. It was the first campfire of the trip and I was determined to have one before the trip was over! I also went in for a swim, determined to maintain the tradition we had established, but the water was much colder than in the Taieri River which we had been swimming in over the last couple of days, and nobody else was tempted to join me!

Day six, our final day. We found a much easier way back out of the riverbed, up a four-wheel-drive track which hadn't been visible from above. From the bridge the route followed down the valley of the Manuhereikia river, heading southwest back towards Alexandra. After travelling through flat farmland the Trail began a steep descent towards Chatto Creek in two wide curves forming a figure S. At the bottom we pulled in at the old Chatto Creek railway station for lunch, and I suddenly noticed that something was wrong. One of my back panniers was missing! I couldn't believe it, and at first I unfairly suspected one of the others of sneaking it off my bike as a joke while I was getting my breath back! My heart sank. Where could it have come off? I remembered going over a sharp bump in the track somewhere a while back, but surely I would have noticed a pannier coming off! But there was nothing for it, so leaving the others munching their lunch, I climbed back on the bike and headed back. How far would I have to go, I wondered. The last place I definitely remembered having the Tramping & Mountaineering 2004 pannier was at Omakau, a good ten kilometres or more back! I ground back up the steep incline, checking out all the banks and bushes it could have bounced over or behind. When I reached the top of the incline and still hadn't found it, I began to think it was possibly lost for good, but then I spotted it in the distance, lying in the middle of the trail! I had retraced my path 5 kilometres backwards but it could have been worse. I firmly attached the errant bag to my carrier and set off back down the incline at full speed, arriving back at the old station just as the others were finishing lunch.

Heading south from Chatto Creek, the trail soon left the farmland behind and followed along beside the river through a barren and scenic landscape of schist rock outcrops, briar, and wild thyme. Finally we reached the bridge leading across the river into Alexandra, and the Rail Trail signposts where we paused to take our photos. The trip was over.

Crossing the Manuherikia Viaduct (Harry Smith)