Journey To The Village of Rohan – Holiday Part 4

As many of you know New Zealand is Middle Earth as portrayed on the big screen by Peter Jackson in the Lord of the Rings Trilogy.  Today I was to journey to the Village of Rohan a much more pleasing option than the a journey to Mordor or so I thought.

While sitting in the courtyard of Solandra Lodge Our Rider noted that it was 30 degrees and not a breath of wind.  So she declared that since it was such a beautiful day she and I would ride to Poolburn Reservoir, some 25km away.  She further commented that even if the wind made an appearance  it would, based on the previous day’s experience, be behind us.  I asked if we would be going uphill or down.  ”A gentle incline,” Our Rider advised.

Dora, carrying Biggest Fan, Frankie and all the gear were the advance party and first to depart.  We followed shortly thereafter, along the driveway and then onto the gravel road.  ”Why am I going so slow,” I asked myself.  My question was answered when the word “Bugger” escaped from Our Rider’s mouth.

Yes out of the lee of the courtyard there was wind and not a tail wind as predicted by Our Rider.  Yes the wind had turned and was blowing directly into my handlebars.  One would have thought by now that I would have learnt that Our Rider is not always accurate when it comes to weather, topography and directions!  Still my sense of adventure always overrides such doubts!

With Dora being ahead of us, and no cellphone reception, there was only one option.  Ride.  At least there was blue sky !  At the end of the road we reached a sign post, which fortunately pointed us in the right direction.

"Reliable Directions"

A little further down the road we found the Moa Creek Hotel, with its offer of accommodation.

The Moa Creek Hotel - Accommodation Available

“Hmm,” we thought, “it may have been several years ago that a person spent the night at this establishment.”  With no refreshments available we continued and shortly thereafter discovered a most useful map.

Accurate and to scale

I am always relieved when we find a map, as although Our Rider’s tendency towards scenic diversions ensures the element of surprise is often present in our adventures, I still like to know that we are headed somewhere rather than nowhere.  Although I have ridden to Nowhere, I have yet to find Somewhere.  An interesting philosophical digression there.

Next to the map was a paddock containing a truck and a horse.  Like the Moa Creek Hotel I don’t believe the truck had seen action for sometime.  At least the horse was exhibiting symptoms of life.

A bicycle, a truck and a horse - yes look closely

From this point on the gentle incline accompanied us.  It indeed would have been quite gentle (to start with) if it had not joined forces with the head wind.  Onwards and upwards I progressed turning my pedals, which in turn turned my wheels.  After climbing for a while Our Rider called a wee break where we were able to enjoy a stunning rock formation and the view back down the valley.

Looking back to where we began

I wonder what activities this rock has witnessed

And we continued to ride up and up, with the gradient and wind both increasing I occasionally resorted to calling on Granny.  ”I’m sure it is just beyond the rise,” Our Rider optimistically stated.  And on reaching the top of the rise what do you think we saw?  That’s right, another rise!

After cresting a few more rises and seeing yet another rise we noticed the cloud of dust of an approaching vehicle.  As the dust cloud approached Dora exploded out of it.  It transpires that on reaching the Village of Rohan Biggest Fan observed dark heavy rain clouds encroaching towards where we were.  So he quickly responded to the call of the Eorlingas, unloaded Dora and like a Lord of Gondor on white horse  bounced back as fast as he safely could, which was about the pace of a fast moving snail, to offer his service.

Our Rider and I gratefully accepted his gallantry and we continued in Dora up and up and up, until it lay before us, a wind swept expanse of water, with a few huts spattered around its edge.

Best Laid Plans – Holiday Part 3

My third ride of my holiday was to be an epic back country adventure following the Thomson Gorge Road up over a pass in the Dunstan Mountains and down the other side.  I had been looking forward to it very much.  OK so if I must be honest, I was looking forward to the downhill much more than the uphill.  Mind you there was a rumour  that I may catch a lift up in Dora, the dodgy Toyota Rav that had been hired as another form of transport for us, and then ride down.  Now that sounded like an excellent plan.

I was to follow an old gold diggers trail and with reefs bearing such exciting names as “Rise and Shine” and “Come in Time” I knew I was in for a treat and held hope that I would stumble across a nugget or three of gold.

Well Mother Nature decided that the adventure was not to be.  The winds of the previous day had turned gale force up to 140 km/h.  I was not too keen to find out the consequences of riding over an exposed pass in such winds.  I had visions of living up to my name and flying off the road, which in all likelihood would have caused severe damage ending my adventures and that was not even considering the possible injuries to Our Rider.  I think skin and bone is more fragile than aluminum.  Although I am not keen to test that hypothesis.

So it was with great despondency that Frankie and I and all the gear was loaded into Dora (I am truly amazed at Our Rider’s ability to pack so much in such a confined space and also grateful that on such a windy day that I was not made to ride out back).

As we headed towards our destination we saw two bicycles being walked along a flat road into the wind.  Had they been going in the same direction I am certain Our Rider would have made room for them in Dora.  How I am not certain.  We really thought that those bicycles would have been better off snuggling up in a cafe until the wind died down.  Although the nearest cafe was probably 20km away at least.

Our abode for the night was Solandra Lodge, an accommodation operated by shebikeshebikes, with whom Our Rider had had a communication or three with (or possibly just a few more) finding out all about rides in the area.  Most useful shebikehebikes was too.  They certainly lived up to their surname “Goodlass”.  They were the wise ones who told Our Rider all about the Thompson Gorge Road.

Well back to the story.  Frankie and I very much enjoyed our night spent out of the wind and Our Rider and Biggest fan found the bed very comfy (there were several to choose from) with nice little touches such as Cookie  Time cookies in the cookie jar, a bath, and a washing machine to wash dirty cycling kit.  A great destination for bicycles and their riders.

So that was that.  Thomson Gorge Road remains to be ridden on a day that I hope Mother Nature blesses with a gentle tail wind.

River Riding – Holiday Part 2

Long term readers will recall my adventure almost two years ago, where I spent a day in the rain circumnavigating Lake Hawea.  Well the second ride of my holiday was not a re-enactment in any shape or form.  It was a stunning summer’s day with nary a cloud to block the sun yet alone release precipitation.  The bicycle who lived at the house I was staying joined me on a very gentle sedate flat ride along the Hawea River Track.

Our ride started by crossing a swing bridge, where I engaged in a spot of trout spotting.

Is that a trout or a stick?

The track meanders beside the river allowing plenty of time for singing a favourite Bruce Springsteen number:

“We’d go down to the river, And into the river we’d dive, Oh down to the river we’d ride.“

As tempting as it was Our Rider did not dive into the river even though the crystal clear waters were calling loudly.  We also stopped to engage in wistful longing of a place to live should Biggest Fan ever get his act sorted and buy the winning lotto ticket!

"If only"

As the trail approached Hawea I noticed a concrete structure with fast flowing white water flowing through it.  I stopped for a closer look and noticing my puzzlement Our Rider said, “dam”.  ”Damn?,”  I wondered, “what was causing our rider to say such a word on such a beautiful day, my tyres were still firm, everything was in working order, ” I thought to myself.  ”A hydroelectric power dam,” Our Rider explained.  I did not seek any further explanation as I prefer to keep my life as simple as possible.  So I stood and admired the beautiful water my mind free of clutter.

"Small Pleasures - a river flowing through a dam!"

We continued into the township which I recognised from my previous epic visit.  We found a cafe and waited while Our Rider and friend consumed coke and coffee respectively and then ambled back the way we came.

On arriving back home the wind had picked up decidedly and I wondered whether it would impact on the next day’s riding.  I had been promised one of my most favourite things – a downhill!

Burning Minarets – Holiday Part 1

Finally I am all back in one piece, with handlebars and pedals re-instated, sort of clean and ready for more adventures.  And first I must tell you about my last adventure.  It all started on a stupendously stunning summer’s day not far from our accommodation where we reunited with old friends who had the foresight to leave busy Auckland to live in Wanaka.  The friend had changed her bicycle since we last met to a stunning metallic pink.  I imagine that she (the bicycle) would have turned Jan’s eye.

"Metallic Pink Bicycle - although I still prefer my virginal white"

Our Rider had been looking forward to this route for many years, due to its reputation for stunning scenery of Lake Wanaka.  Surprise, surprise, surprise the track started with an uphill, quite steep judging by our pace and the more than occasional push!  It was at this point that Our Rider was questioning her wisdom on choosing this for our first ride.

I read the track sign, which led me to believe we were looking for a burning minaret, although I was none to sure as to what a minaret actually was.  At least we were going in the right direction, if there is such a thing.

"Where's the fire?"

After the climbing the track converted to undulations and scenery that steals breath (nothing to do with the ups).

Coloquhoun's beach sending its Invitation to swim

Fortunately there were some shallow rivers to cross, which kept the Riders cool and my tyres from melting.

"Splash, splash, splosh"

Apparently once upon a time there was a cafe on this track and we took a detour in search of it.  OK there never was a cafe, I just wanted to catch the attention of those road bicycles who follow my blog.  According to Mr Tourism Wanaka, who was riding one of the bicycles, there were remains of the original homestead down a track .  We did find it – the homestead occupied by the entire Sandfly Family.

"Hobbit sized people must have been the original occupants"

Now you will recall I mentioned the climb at the start and that meant the return was downhill with most riders forgetting about the hairpin, which is quite different going down than up.  Fortunately us bicycles kept control and did not fly off the edge into the lake below.  Metallic Pink performed the most daring execution and showed remarkable skill to remain on the track, sort of.

While no bicycles were injured on the ride one rider suffered a wee scrape which was expertly fixed by Metallic Pink’s part-time paramedic rider.

"Human's harmed 1 - Bicycles harmed 0"

It was wonderful catching up with old friends even if they were riding new bicycles and I am very much looking forward to a return visit for another adventure with them.  I still have no idea what a Minaret Burn actually is.  Ohh well life as a bicycle would be boring if I had all the answers.

Living Superficially

While searching for inspiration to write about my recent adventure I came across this quote from a dude who swam the length of Lake Wakatipu (81km).

“Most human activities don’t survive two or three lines of questioning. Marathon swimming and other extreme activities like mountaineering struggle to get past the first ‘why’ with credibility. But if you find enjoyment in an activity, however absurd, and it isn’t causing significant harm to others, then there is little benefit in thinking deeply about it. Sometimes it’s best to live superficially.”

- Ben Campbell-MacDonald

With which I completely concur – now back to the inspiration search.  I promise you will be rewarded for your wait.

  

I’m back

You may be wondering why Jan and I have not been writing for the past few weeks.  There was a very very very good reason.  As suspected, I have been on a most exciting adventure of the bodacious kind.  While Jan was stuck in the garage longing for Betty.  The adventure commenced with  Frankie and me getting taken apart (I am comfortable with that now and Frankie was staunch about it), packed in boxes and flying in an airplane.  My white paint is not as pristine as when we started, nothing a day at the spa won’t fix (I say hopefully).

Over the next couple of weeks I will tell you all about it, accompanied by stunning photographs of the scenery and of course me.  For a wee teaser it involved; riding with a stunning shiny pink bicycle (Jam would approve), a locomotive and goods carriage impersonation (myself and Frankie respectively), real trains that went choo choo toot toot; and remote valleys where only the brave venture, including a couple of English cycle tourers; oh and I almost forgot reaching my top speed ever, and we haven’t even started yet.

Be sure to come on back now.

Sand, Surf & Sun

After last week’s exploration that ended in a Ferry ride, Betty and I decided to continue with the holiday theme.  ”How, about the beach?” I asked.  ”Absolutely,” Betty’s immediate reply.  This presented a slight dilemma as the route to the West Coast beaches requires the ascent of a hill or two, something that Our Rider and MT try to avoid.  Fortunately mapmyride.com helped us misinform the riders by showing the distance as 55km with a mere 430 metres of climbing, with a manageable gradient of around 5% (give or take).

Betty and I met at our usual place at the usual time and started the slog out on the false flat into a wind. “At least we will have a tail wind home,” I observed to Betty. “Yes, and no rain today,” Betty joyfully replied.

We started up the first climb with my Garmin showing a gradient of 9.8%, occasionally when it dropped to 6.3% it seemed almost easy.  Yes by doing something more difficult, it makes what you did before seem easier.  On reaching the top Our Rider declared, “I don’t remember it being that long.”  Oh how time fades memory.  ”I think coca-cola at the beach will be on today’s menu,” MT, ever mindful of her cafe responsibility, commented.

We then entered one of the most pleasurable phases of the ride: a lovely descent followed by undulating country roads, where our ears strained to hear nothing as we rode in companionable silence.  We were starting to wonder when we would arrive at the beach and a little anxious if there would be a cafe there to refuel the riders, then we saw it:

"Surf's Up" - Photo by MT

The had been very little traffic and yet when we stopped to purvey this sign a convoy of at least ten vehicles drove by.  A little bit further down the road, we discovered their purpose.  The vehicles were full of trampers out for a Saturday meander, a bit like Betty and I really.  Except why walk when you can ride?

Slightly anxious Our Rider approached the parking area, concerned that the much promised cafe may not actually exist or be open.  Fortunately this was alleviated when a converted caravan with food, chairs and tables appeared.

Two coca-colas, one double espresso and a chocolate brownie would hopefully provide the ideal mix of sugar and caffeine to ensure the success of the return journey.  While relaxing the clouds dissipated and the sun appeared.  There are few things sweeter than feeling the warmth of the sun on my frame.  Betty’s Garmin told her it was 30 degrees!

"Sand beneath our tyres"

After a quick look beyond the sand dunes to confirm that the surf was there it was time to return, via a slightly different route to avoid the very steep climb, that we had enjoyed riding down.

"Sand, Surf & Sun"

The route involved a climb that mapmyride had listed at around 4%.  More like 8% reaching 10%.  Still as I said before, “by doing something harder, it makes what you did before easier.”  The coca-cola and coffee were definitely working as it should, with Our Rider and MT successfully powering us up the hill and then the next one.  From then on it was a reverse false flat with a tail wind (as predicted) except for the cross winds, all the way home.  ”Yee Hah!“

With 65km ridden, 750 metres climbed and gradients reaching 10%, we certainly proved that mapmyride.com lies and Betty and I enjoyed a laugh at our deception.   When we heard Our Rider and MT cheerfully chat about riding the Buttered Chicken on our next date we both did a bunnyhop in delight.  We were most proud  that over the past months we have cajoled Our Rider and MT into making such fine progress and reminisced of  the time where we spent more time outside the cafe waiting than riding.  We knew they would!