Day 25 Franz Joseph to Haast

 Day 25 Franz Joseph to Haast 

Another epic day and PB.
155 kms 1909 metres climbed 12hrs 38 in the saddle. I used that bum butter three times and wore two pairs of cycling pants. Three firsts in one day. Just made it in time for a lamb shank $38 in the Hard Antler. I mentioned it to a wit in the community area and he said that was cheap... imagine catching one then killing it yourself. I was too tired to try. Next minute his wife called and he had to go and read his kids a story. We discussed Dickens and Moby Dick and The Hobbit until his wife called again.

Highlight today. A yellow rubber ducky floating in one of those little ponds, surrounded by flaxes and ancient trees and a couple of live ones paddling past, a dozen wood pigeon cavorting at Knights Point and watercress in the ditches on the roadside. It was baking hot though. It topped out at 34 degrees. The Garmin read the average temp as 27 degrees and I lost 9.12 litres of sweat.

Lots of remedial flood protection work being done on rivers and coastline all along the Coast. Someone is taking Climate Change seriously.

Day 24 Hokitika to Franz Josef

 Day 24 Hokitika to Franz Josef

I rolled into Franz just on dark after a P.B. 141 kms. Was having a family call and showed them the sunset, it was dark already in Auckland. The photos were all taken today.
The pros machines lined up outside a cafe in Hokitika. They were lazing around inside ready to spin into action at a moments notice... Like fighter pilots taking on the enemy.

They finally caught me at Hari Hari where I thought my tyre was splitting down the seam and was frantically organizing Jade and Rodney to get a couple couriered down. No panic they assured me. They are made like that, joined in the middle. Crisis over.

I trundled and they passed me a couple of times and were looking for somewhere to swim. The river they were looking at was flowing that blue glacial milk from all the rock ground to powder. They wisely chose not to as it was boiling down and deep. River crossing used to be called the NZ Death for good reason.

I biked into Franz from Top 10 in the dark and pulled up at a trendy bar called The Landing. I was the only one there, the cook had gone and so I settled for wedges with cream and sauce. The cycle trail I was on most of the day was super. Beautiful smooth surface and lots of information boards.

At Lake Ianthee I took a photo of Kathy of Hari Hari backing the Rav 4 into the water to pick up their fizz boat. Her and Martina are both at university. She could get a first class honours in trailer backing. Went in first pop and she never stopped yakking to me.

I recalled staying in that exact spot when about 10 on a caravan tour with my folks. We got attacked by bugs at night. There was an old log in the water and dad said don't push it out. People had boats out there. Later I gave it a nudge and in the morning it was way out lurking ready to attack any boats. Dad was concerned and told the boaties but I just had to suffer in silence. He was good like that. Once I came home on my bike after being out all day with mates and they were out the front talking to friends who were leaving. Mum whipped a brand new packet of menthol cigarettes out of my top shirt pocket. I was busted. They never said a word. Today it would be rounds of restorative meetings and hand wringing. I did enough of that on my own. 

There is a photo of men working the track. They were spreading shingle and rolling it flat. There were tracks of wild pigs along where they hadn't yet rolled.

Day 23 Greymouth to Hokitika via Kumara

 Day 23 Greymouth to Hokitika via Kumara

Crossing The Bar

Alfred Lord Tennyson

Sunset and evening star

And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,

When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,

Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

When I have crossed the bar.

Up early to the sound of rain. Brad was already at the bar when I got there, he is going to beat me to the bike shop. The bar was churning water, rolling waves tearing in from all directions. I took the compulsory photo.

Brad left and Steve Jai Wozza and Matt from Westport and Christchurch turned up excited at the surf.

I asked for a photo. They asked if I was a cop. I snapped a couple off and then told them I was an ex-cop, that's why I took the photo. They laughed and turned to the surf. It was low tide and they were going to the Serpentine then back to ride the 'wedge' and explained how. I swallowed hard

When they asked what I was doing they said I was braver than them and laughed some more. Judging by the selection of tattoos a couple of them had been detained at Her Majesty's discretion. I headed off to the safety of the bike shop for minor surgery.

I had a late start as I had to get a new derailleur cable for the front changes. They left out the indicator needle during the surgery so now both indicators are broken, the other smashed in a fall has no number to indicate what gear. I started in reverse biking from top town into town and finally got away after 10. The trail was gorgeous, well maintained do lots of stops.

 

Kumara was closed, oops no lunch. I chatted to Mr Martini whose ancestors were from Italy and came via Australia around 1860 to goldmine.



Seeing the Kumara theatre, a resovoir resembling Mordor and a trout in a water race for the reservoir.
It reminded me that when dad was a kid he used to tickle trout or blow them, stunning them with carbide, which fizzes with water and produces gas which used to fuel miners helmets. I used to have a lovely brass one. Back then fizzy drink came in glass bottles with a funny bulging neck which contained a marble. The bottles were filled and the marle sealed the gap stopping the pressure escaping. Dad used to put too much carbide in and the bottle would explode in the river. Trout dinner. Some other riders saw a nice metre plus eel. Eels are protected in Nelson Lakes National Park. They used to have boat races at New Years and one year a boat lost an expensive brass prop. A diver was despatched and met some huge eels around the bottom and came up so quickly he got the bends. A girl at school last year showed me a photo of a friend one had latched onto. Nasty.

I climbed up and up, ate my bars and Elizabeth's hard tack rations. Like the stuff the hobbits ate, heavy as a meteorite and for emergency. Up to 317 metres at Kawhaka Pass then down to a replica town called Cowboy Paradise.

There was a row of bikes parked up outside some nice accommodation. I stepped into a cavernous bar, a group of people enjoying themselves and some fast riders relaxing outside. The owner, I presume, was looking busy in the kitchen. There were bain-maries, pots, pans, steel covers, extractors the whole kit and caboodle. He asked me what I wanted. I said anything, I was starving. He nodded at some potato crisp packets and said that was all he had. They were $6.00. I baulked at the price. Then took a packet. He whined at me, you can't eat them on their own. You'll need something to wash them down. He said the others had bought the red labelled can, Red Label. Sounded like Lion Red! They were diet coke. I took one for $4.00. I gave him a twenty and got a ten back and the feeble excuse that he didn't carry much change and this made everything simple. It would have been simpler if he'd pulled a pistol and demanded my money. I ate a few with the others then left because I was desperate to get out of the forest and to Hokitika before dark, I still had 16kms of cycle trail, 12 km of gravel road and 8 km of sealed road. It was starting to rain. I considered crushing the chips and snorting them down I was so concerned. On the way out I asked him for a photo. He grinned a toothless grin, perhaps the money was going towards dental work.

I told him Ned Kelly wasn't dead and the blasted mobile wouldn't work. Flat battery. Lucky for him, or he would have been on next week's Crimewatch, top 10 for extortion. When I hit the seal I abandoned the TA Brevet and hightailed it into Hokitika. When I texted Sam the calls lit up. My satellite tracker had run out of power and they thought I was still up in the bush, lost or worse. Hokitika was closed and locked down. I settled for a takeaway curry and was soon home for the night tucked up in bed.

Day 22 Reefton to Greymouth

Day 22 Reefton to Greymouth

86 kms in 7hrs 40 ascent 376 m

Heart rate average bpm 91 64/116

Sunday Morning Sidewalk
Chris Kristofferson

Well I woke up Sunday morning with no way to hold my head it didn't hurt.

And the beer I had for breakfast didn't hurt

And I fumbled in my closet for my cleanest dirty shirt

Then I stumbled down the stairs to meet the day

All true except it was beans for breakfast and my neck giving me grief. It is my only complaint apart from the sores on my Achilles caused by sand and grit chaffing in my sandals. I've changed to trainers and socks but still...

My neck is so bad I have trouble drinking from a bottle and tilt back gingerly. I have to stop sometimes if crossing the road or looking for traffic. Nurse Carole gave me a consultation this morning and I know the max dose to wrong out of Prescription Voltarin if the last of the ibuprofen doesn't kick in tonight.

Today was a pearler...easy riding, lots of photo stops, engaging chats and arrived at a spick and span Top 10 in east time. The only rider I saw was Brad who last time was cooling off under a lawn sprinkler on a front lawn in Taumarunui's baking heat. He was on a mission to get to a bike shop as am I but they are all closed so a late start tomorrow. I photographed some old houses in Reefton the first place in NZ to have power, a few river scenes, the Inangahua which was a trickle at the top of the saddle yesterday and flows into the Buller then out at Westport and the little Grey and big Grey, which are named after Governor Grey, and flows out to the sea at Greymouth, hence it's name.

I rolled easily through the country and only a few ups, some of which I stitched up zigging and zagging giving the satellite tracking a fit and making it look like I'm stitching the lines on the road together. There's little camber on the road so easy to do but sometimes because of my gear troubles I had to walk, a mart 5 to 5.5 kmph, quite a respectable speed and a relief for the bum and some leg muscles. I clambered up these massive bales of grass, 15x19x2- a whole lot of grass. 

I had elevenses in Ikamatua where I was supposed to turn off but didn't because of the gears. As an afterthought when I left I asked a couple of teenagers ambling along what the town meant. One had no idea and the other hadn't lived there long enough to know! (A pathetic excuse) I think I may have fluffed the pronunciation and said Ihumatoa, anyhow the manager of the tearooms was on to it although her staff didn't know. It meant 'big fish'. Dammit, I should have worked that out for myself. I shall never forget, and if the signs were in both languages a lot of other people would remember too. I suggested perhaps it referred to eels and remembered a storm about the New Years boat races at Lake Rotoiti, not too far away. A speed boat had lost its propeller. They were expensive. A diver sent down to find it. He was greeted by some massive eels and came up so quickly he got the bends. Eels will bite humans and are protected in Nelson Lakes Park.

Down the road was Totara Flat and an old stage post, accommodation house. You can see the stained glass sign if you look carefully. They were usually built close to the road because horses don't generally move too quickly. Across the road was a lovely garden of dahlias and crazy wind spinners. On cue the mallard started flapping because he was pointing into the breeze, no stamina though, only did a couple of flaps, not enough to achieve lift off.

I ran into Jeanette and Craig Edwards of Opotiki, who knew friends of mine. Ahaura the town should be pronounced Ahaurua, although he acknowledged regional variations in pronunciation, the historical display in the park carried no mention of Maori or the derivation of the name. I asked a woman but she was a visitor but found out quickly... The place of the meeting of many rivers. That makes sense. Maybe we could do the same with the Grey and the Buller or the Avon. I'm getting worked up. I'd better finish my beer and meal...

The locals are friendly, really despite evidence to the contrary. The first hut was at where I thought cousin Myrtle's swing bridge went across. There was a camp oven and cast iron fry pan inside but hadn't cooked bacon and eggs for a long time. There was a suspicious amount of polythene piping lying around suggesting a grow operation so I kept my eyes open for trip wires, bear traps and, hidden pits and backed out. The second I had seen in the main street of Reefton and again today. I stepped off my bike for a photo. A couple were sitting on the porch. I raised my hand and cried" I come in peace." Something was muttered, had they no sense of humour, was he reaching for his rifle a hole already built out back for the next victim. I was gone, the road pointed downhill, they would never catch me.

I made Greymouth and began reconnaissance for the bike shop hoping to beat Brad who I had just passed again. Kids were doing amazing feats on their bicycles. I bullied them into a group ride, they obliged with several takes from both directions. I thanked them and retired to the cafe for directions to Top10 Holiday Park (Time on Reconnaissance) They were flummoxed with questions about direction, the definition of frappe (banana), I bought one anyway, or where Cape Reinga or Bluff were. Free wifi? They told me the pass, they knew that alright, they told me to use my phone directions but I cunningly averted I had run out of minutes. 

I sat outside sipping and musing on how good life was. The Police turned up. He bawled the kids out and took names although he seemed to already know. I roused myself and still sipping my frappe ambled over told him it was my fault because I egged them on.

They performed cunning tricks behind his back. I offered him a frappe because it was hot and he looked like he could do with one, being with all that gear, a mask on, a blazing hot day and some old lunatic sticking his oar in and defending to the town delinquents. Perhaps the weird look because he didn't know what a frappe was? He declined. I sent off a massive file of photos to Krystal my blog site manager and cruised along to Top 10. The showers have tiling. I am in heaven. The surfs up. I snap some sunset photos and am in the Australasian sun enjoying a Speights, cheese cake and beef burger and bacon hamburger all served with a Top10 discount. Life doesn't get any better than this. Goodnight.