Right after the Easter in Arapawa Island, I cycled from Picton to Christchurch. This was my first multi-day bike tour carrying all camping equipment. At Picton harbour I put my bike back in riding condition after the transportation in Jenny's car. Tanks for the ride and apologies for all the greasy chainmarks! My backpack, boots and other field work gear that would not be required on the ride got a return ticket in the car, while rest of the stuff fitted in two rear panniers and a handlebar back. The tent was strapped on the rear rack, and I was ready to go. Notice, that the front wheel quick release is open in the picture. Luckily, I did notice that pretty soon.
I rode from Picton to Blenheim during Easter Sunday afternoon. The weather was sunny, not too hot, and the traffic along Highway 1 was tolerable due to a reasonably wide paved road shoulder. Even the gradients were nice and gentle for a first day of loaded touring.
Before Easter I had called Satu, whom I had met at the Finnish independence day party last year, and got invited to visit the Vicarage Lane Wines she and her husband have in Blenh
eim. I did a few rounds in the centre of Blenheim trying to find a supermarket, but they were closed for Easter. When heading towards the Information Centre of the railway station I stopped to wait for the traffic circle to clear. A green SUV came behind, stopped on my right and drove to the traffic circle knocking me over with its mirror. I fell to the lane on my left, which was luckily clear of traffic, while the SUV stopped to the other side of the traffic circle. Unhurt, except for a scratch on the knee and elbow, I rode to tell the SUV driver what I thought of his driving skills. "Sorry mate, I didn't see you
" was not quite as sincere an apology I expected, neither did I accept his excuse for being a kiwi and thus a lousy driver. No real harm had happened, however, and I let the matter to be. Only later did it occur to me that the driver might have been drunk and I could have taken up his license number - or even grabbed the camera and taken a picture of him. Unfortunately I was too shaken and angry to think about that on time.
After the incident with the SUV I rode to see Satu and h
er vineyard a few kilometers away from Blenheim centre. I got a tour among th
e vines and heard a lot about grapes and wine making. It was nice to speak Finnish again. I continued my ride later in the afternoon, with the handlebar bag full of apples as a parting gift from Satu.
The twilight came at 6 pm, while I was still riding among the vineyards towards Saint Arnaud. There was no place to put up a tent, every bit of land being someone's property and fenced off from tiring cyclotourists. It was quite dark when I arrived to Wairau Valley village, found an old tavern that also had a pice of lawn for campers, as well as a shower and beer. The trucks went past on the other side of the fence, but I was too tired to let my sleep to be interfered.
At the following day, the Easter Monday, I continued the riding south-west along the
Wairau River towards St. Arnaud. That was a weary day, riding to a headwind on a straight road in a landscape that was pretty, but changed so slowly that I began to question the sensibility of my ride. Other than the wind, the weather remained fine. There were no villages and few houses before I had done the final climb over the low saddle between the mountains and descended to Saint Arnaud, which seems to be mainly a holiday resort for the campers and trampers at the Nelson Lakes park.
I welcomed the services of a populated place, most importantly the grocery store and the camping ground with a shower. In the evening I went to have a beer at the restaurant of an upscale lodge, but did not feel welcome among the diners in my cyc
ling clothes and unshave
d face.
The next morning was cold and misty, but cleared soon to befit a cyclers paradise: gentle downhill and tailwind in a scenic landscape on a silent road! I pretty much freewheeled all the way to Murchison, where I stopped for a lunch and an unsuccessful attempt to find a charger for my cell phone. The road became more narrow and busy as I came to Highway 6 west of Murchison. I was not comfortable among the
trucks and campervans on a mountain roa
d with blind corners, no shoulder and a steep h
ill up on one side and down on the other.
I was happy to turn south towards Springs Junction on a bit more quiet stretch of road.
The road followed a river that had changed its course after an earthquake in 1929 and formed a wide waterfall. The place must be truly impressive during the spring flood.
Again, the night was coming early and I had
to find a place to camp. There would not be any established locations for a considerable distance and I was becoming tired after a long day in the saddle. The hills around the road were mostly forested and at least accessible for their lack of fences, but where to find a flat piece of ground for the tent? One of the side roads appeared to be for the maintenance of a power line and I trusted nobody would need to come there during the night. I pitched my tent in the middle of the road for the lack of a better place and did, indeed, had a nights sleep without being run over by a 4WD or a tractor.
I woke up in a white-out, as the hills around me were covered by thick clouds. Everything was wet although it had not rained, but it was reasonably warm, however. I had camped higher
up than I had thought and the landscape become more clear as I came
downhill, below the clouds.
After Springs Junction, the road began to climb again towards Lewis Pass. The weather turned hot and a small, previously unknown muscle above my left knee started complaining. That was the perfect moment for the Japanese bath and hot pools of Maruia Springs to come in sight. The place was nearly empty and I had the whole bath house for myself to relax my aching muscles in the sulfurous hot water.
After a generous time healing myself, I continued the climb smelling like rotten eggs.
The tailwind helped me to the saddle point of the climb, but I would certainly have used smaller gears if I had had any. The climb was followed by a steep descent to the Eastern side of the mountains and I got my new record speed on a bike, 71.8 km/h.
I had not quite decided where to stay for the night. My map showed several promising camping places, but they turned out to be resting stops for cars, where tenting was not permitted. The strong tailwind and long downhills made me to continue all the way to a camping place near Hanmer Springs.
The last day of my trip, from Hanmer Springs to Christchurch was long at 130 km, but one of the easiest due to the gentle slopes downhill and the strong tailwind all the way. The landscape turned from mountains to river margins, pastures and hedgerows again. At Waipara, where I stopped for lunch before last leg back home, I was surprised to meet my colleagues Mattias and Mariska, who were cheking some field sites that were conveniently at vineyards. I might consider a change of career to empirical ecology if could do that in similar places!
Not much to say about the last kilometers of the ride. Highway 1 was busy and uninspiring, but at least wide enough to fit a cyclist among the other traffic. From Rangiora I was at familiar roads again and arrived home in Christchurch after a total of 512 km in five days, with daily rides ranging from 70 to 130 km, mostly depending on the wind. A good trip, I will want to go cycle touring again next summer!
