A lonely road through the mountains - Molesworth Station
I have a lovely relaxing day in Wellington where I treat myself to some luxury eating in quirky Sweet Mothers Kitchen and strike up a conversation with some German travelers. I spend half a day wandering in the Te Papa museum and coming out too tired to take in anything else. The next morning I find out my last can of tuna has somehow broken inside my pannier and has leaked tuna and oil over my stuff (most of which I stored in drybags luckily). After cleaning my bag and drybags (they still smell slightly of tuna even a week later), I book the ferry, have an excellent coffee on the waterfront, and watch people walking by. The day is blindingly sunny. Finally I get to see some of the coast that I cycled on a couple of days ago and on the ferry I meet some very nice people so the time passes quickly and about 5 hours later we disembark in Picton. The Marlborough Sounds look lovely in the afternoon sun.
I stay at a nice tent field in Waikawa and have a pleasant evening and morning with the bikers from the ferry. In the morning a pukeko steals my dish wash sponge and I chase after it till it lets it drop after a while. Somehow I don't think that a sponge would be good for its diet.
I decide in the morning which direction to go, I leave southwards on the SH1 to Blenheim. The SH1 is a fine road with a wide shoulder most of the way. I wait at some point for half an hour because the ferry has obviously just arrived and there is a lot of traffic for a bit. In Blenheim I have to adapt my plans a bit because the lady in the iSITE tell me that the Rainbow road is closed until further notice. I pull out the maps and decide to still take the Molesworth Station road, only now with destination Hanmer Springs instead of St Arnaud. I have taken a dislike to Blenheim (a lot of through traffic) and leave the SH1 and cycle over the Taylor's Pass which is a lovely and quiet road into the wide Awatare valley.
The lower part of the Awatare valley is filled with vineyards. Wine is big business here. The regular shots echoing through the valley are a bit disconcerting though, I presume they are a method to scare away birds from the grapes. The river has gauged itself deeply in the valley and slumbers through the braiding streambed. Even though the water is low at the moment I can hear the river rumbling softly all through the day and night. I imagine it must be an impressive sight in winter. I camp at a quiet freedom campsite.
I feel good and the next day I have the vague optimistic thought that I might be able to cycle the ca. 90 km to the Molesworth Station in one day. Some cyclists coming the other way advise me differently and tell me it is pretty hilly the next 70km. And after a couple of hours of slow progress through unrelenting ups and down in the baking sun I let that thought go. I have lunch and find a half shady spot under a bush where I doze off and slide through the grass following the (very small) shady spot. After lunch and nap I am pretty knackered and now I have a headwind as well. Both cars and wind whip up the dust from the gravel road and I cycle on with my buff over my mouth and nose to stop breathing in so much dust.
Then suddenly there is a sign for accommodation. I decide to check it out and find a lovely little cabin for backpackers on a working farm. I gratefully shower and lounge on the sofas until I cannot keep my eyes open and fall into a very deep sleep. In the morning I meet a group of hunters who have been staying here as well and I am treated to pig killing related humour and jargon. That is a new experience. They tell me they have been having a good time hunting deer and boar but that they didn't get the 'bastard' this time.
The ups and downs from yesterday have got into my head a bit and I dread the 2 bigger hills at Upcott Saddle. I meet a French cyclist going the other way with a trailer behind his bike, he looks like he is having a hard time. When I arrive at the Upcott hills at the end of the morning, my legs just turn to jelly at the sight of the straight road rising up steeply (I dislike straight steep roads) and I wearily start to walk. After 10 minutes a pickup truck coming the other way takes pity on me and offers me a lift. Yeah! My bike and I sit grinning in the back while the truck growls its way up the hill for a couple of kilometers. I am so lucky! At the top I gratefully disembark and they turn around to continue on their journey. The clouds are threatening rain and after a nice descent I cycle up the next hill which is less steep and I am treated to a shower. I hope it will not last and after an hour or so the clouds lift and the sun peeps out again an dries me out. The air is washed clean and the mountains and sky are full of colour to enjoy.
With only about 20 km to go now to the campsite I make very slow progress, my legs are tired, there seems to be no end to the (little) climbs. Finally I make it to the campsite where I am immediately treated to a cool beer by a very kind camper and I pitch my tent next to the stream after chatting to the ranger and the other campers and have a lovely meal eating my last fresh vegetable (carrot) with my couscous chatting in the evening sun. The night turns pretty chilly at 860m and after I niftily turn all my luggage into a warmth barrier around me I turn through the night to warm up different sides of my body that keep losing heat through my summer sleeping bag. I sleep pretty well considering.
The morning is gloriously sunny although I pack up my tent soaking with morning dew before the sun gets a chance to dry it out. I know I have far to go and the highest pass to climb today. Molesworth Station is a working farm and I have to cross 57 km before they close the gates at night. My mood is good. I force my legs into the rhythm of up and down again through the upper Awatare valley where very curious cows alternate between staring at me intently, running away a bit if I get to close but then following me again in an ever increasing group and staring at me again. The curiosity of a group of cows can feel very intense. It reminds me of fieldwork in the Netherlands almost 20 years ago where I once ran very fast (surely breaking my own speed record) from a group of approaching galloping curious yearling calves. I avoid looking directly at the few bulls who are the only ones to studiously ignore me and deign to let me pass.
The pass is only a few kilometers away and as the morning sun beats gently on my head I reach the pass and look back into the valley. Walking up the pass I am again offered a lift by the camper couple who gave me a beer yesterday evening. They take me up the last 150m in a jiffy and I descend smilingly braking continuously into the valley which is called Isolated Flat. A wide valley in the middle of the mountains. Amazing views and vistas.
As I cycle on that day I can imagine the early explorers getting lost. If it wasn't for the road I would lose my bearings. There are endless valleys opening up and closing in on all sides. And the rivers going downstream don't always follow the expected route to sea because the land here is riddled with faults and the landscape is changed by earthquakes and fault lines. I meet and chat with some local cyclists on a small hill where I have lunch.
I continue through the Acheron Valley. I see the confluence of the Acheron river (white) and Severn river (blue) and see them mixing together beautifully. The mountain valley winds on and on for 30 km, sometimes narrow and steep and then widening up again. It is lovely riding with only an occasional hill. Every mountain looks different, I pass many different types of rock and see scree slopes, slips, sheared off glaciated valley walls, waterfalls. In the afternoon the ranger offers me a lift to Acheron if I need it but I tell him I am fine. It is lovely cycling.
I camp at Acheron cob cottage and share a picnic table with a German couple but the suddenly numerous sandflies drive me into my tent where I get into the routine of spending the first 5 minutes of getting in the tent to kill all the sandflies that have gotten in. In the morning I hide from the sandflies and have breakfast inside. I have not far to go today so I ride at my ease through the Clarence river valley. Pines and broom start to appear and give the mountains a totally different look.
I am loath to leave the mountains too soon so I write a bit in my journal before Jollies Pass sitting beside the river and observe a motorbiker sliding in the gravel. He is alright apparently. I ride into Jollies Pass which has a very gentle ascent and then a very steep descent of about 500 m with some lovely views into Hanmer Springs. I take my second fall of this trip. It is not too bad (I was going very slowly) but I do graze a layer of skin of my arm and a bit of leg while sliding down on the gravel. I have never been so appreciative of my cycling gloves as today because otherwise I would have lost the skin on my hands as well and that would have been inconvenient. My bike is alright and after washing off the grit of the wound I cycle on (even more slowly) down into the valley feeling a bit shaky. In Hanmer I treat myself to an excellent pancake lunch and mango smoothie at Mumbles Cafe and have a nice chat with some motorbikers (one of whom turns out to be Dutch). Cyclone Gita will hit tomorrow and with lots of rain expected I gratefully arrive at my warmshowers host and am now hiding from the rain.
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| Marlborough Sounds - Wellington to Picton Ferry |
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| Waikawa Campsite |
I stay at a nice tent field in Waikawa and have a pleasant evening and morning with the bikers from the ferry. In the morning a pukeko steals my dish wash sponge and I chase after it till it lets it drop after a while. Somehow I don't think that a sponge would be good for its diet.
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| Pukeko casing my stuff |
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| Lower Awatare valley - filled with vineyards |
I feel good and the next day I have the vague optimistic thought that I might be able to cycle the ca. 90 km to the Molesworth Station in one day. Some cyclists coming the other way advise me differently and tell me it is pretty hilly the next 70km. And after a couple of hours of slow progress through unrelenting ups and down in the baking sun I let that thought go. I have lunch and find a half shady spot under a bush where I doze off and slide through the grass following the (very small) shady spot. After lunch and nap I am pretty knackered and now I have a headwind as well. Both cars and wind whip up the dust from the gravel road and I cycle on with my buff over my mouth and nose to stop breathing in so much dust.
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| Dust! |
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| Protecting myself against the dust |
The ups and downs from yesterday have got into my head a bit and I dread the 2 bigger hills at Upcott Saddle. I meet a French cyclist going the other way with a trailer behind his bike, he looks like he is having a hard time. When I arrive at the Upcott hills at the end of the morning, my legs just turn to jelly at the sight of the straight road rising up steeply (I dislike straight steep roads) and I wearily start to walk. After 10 minutes a pickup truck coming the other way takes pity on me and offers me a lift. Yeah! My bike and I sit grinning in the back while the truck growls its way up the hill for a couple of kilometers. I am so lucky! At the top I gratefully disembark and they turn around to continue on their journey. The clouds are threatening rain and after a nice descent I cycle up the next hill which is less steep and I am treated to a shower. I hope it will not last and after an hour or so the clouds lift and the sun peeps out again an dries me out. The air is washed clean and the mountains and sky are full of colour to enjoy.
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| Upper Awatare valley |
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| Upper Awatare valley - almost at Molesworth Station |
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| Curious cows |
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| Isolated Flat |
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| Isolated Flat |
I continue through the Acheron Valley. I see the confluence of the Acheron river (white) and Severn river (blue) and see them mixing together beautifully. The mountain valley winds on and on for 30 km, sometimes narrow and steep and then widening up again. It is lovely riding with only an occasional hill. Every mountain looks different, I pass many different types of rock and see scree slopes, slips, sheared off glaciated valley walls, waterfalls. In the afternoon the ranger offers me a lift to Acheron if I need it but I tell him I am fine. It is lovely cycling.
 |
| Confluence of Severn and Acheron rivers |
I camp at Acheron cob cottage and share a picnic table with a German couple but the suddenly numerous sandflies drive me into my tent where I get into the routine of spending the first 5 minutes of getting in the tent to kill all the sandflies that have gotten in. In the morning I hide from the sandflies and have breakfast inside. I have not far to go today so I ride at my ease through the Clarence river valley. Pines and broom start to appear and give the mountains a totally different look.
 |
| Clarence river - near Jollies Pass |
I am loath to leave the mountains too soon so I write a bit in my journal before Jollies Pass sitting beside the river and observe a motorbiker sliding in the gravel. He is alright apparently. I ride into Jollies Pass which has a very gentle ascent and then a very steep descent of about 500 m with some lovely views into Hanmer Springs. I take my second fall of this trip. It is not too bad (I was going very slowly) but I do graze a layer of skin of my arm and a bit of leg while sliding down on the gravel. I have never been so appreciative of my cycling gloves as today because otherwise I would have lost the skin on my hands as well and that would have been inconvenient. My bike is alright and after washing off the grit of the wound I cycle on (even more slowly) down into the valley feeling a bit shaky. In Hanmer I treat myself to an excellent pancake lunch and mango smoothie at Mumbles Cafe and have a nice chat with some motorbikers (one of whom turns out to be Dutch). Cyclone Gita will hit tomorrow and with lots of rain expected I gratefully arrive at my warmshowers host and am now hiding from the rain.
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| Descent from Jollies Pass to Hanmer Springs |
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