GSB Day 6

There was a chance I could get to Tekapo today but it would need a big day to get there so I set off at 5.00am - my earliest start of all. Watching the sun rise over the Maniototo was magic as I headed towards Naseby. I felt it was going to be a special day but little did I know how special and what dramas were lying in wait for me up the road.

The morning was one of the most pleasurable rides that I can remember doing for a long time. A lovely early dawn ride along the Naseby forest water race was followed by a beautiful tail wind cruise up towards Danseys pass. The surrounding hills in the low glancing light were pure Grahame Sydney. I passed a random sign on the road and stopped for a photo that I thought my Black Sheep bike friends in Colorado might like.

I had passed through Naseby very early before anything was open so I hoped the Danseys Pass pub was open for breakfast. I rolled in and although it looked lifeless from the outside it was open and I ordered the biggest breakfast on the menu. It was great - full of fat and cholesterol - just what I needed. It would get my vote as the best meal and place on the brevet. Fueled up and refreshed I headed out and started the long winding climb to the top of Danseys pass.

It was perfect with the ideal gradient for my singlespeed gearing, a strong tail wind gently pushing me up and the now standard spectacular views all around. I felt I could have climbed like this forever but the top eventually came and a superb downhill brought me into the valley below. Another steeper climb followed which forced me to walk at one point and then an effortless tail wind descent carried me all the way to the main road and Duntroon where I stopped for a big pub burger. What a way to start the day - mountain biking ecstasy.

I looked out the pub window and realized that my good friend the tail wind was going to become his evil head wind twin brother for the stretch to Kurow. I watched with sinking spirits the trees whipping round and leaning heavily over from the winds ominous force. I crawled along the road to Kurow, hunkering down over the bars, keeping my elbows tucked in to keep my frontal area as small as possible. The wind was deafening as it whistled past my ears.

Further up the road I saw a car parked on the side of the road and as I got closer Alexandra local Gary McKenzie stepped out. He had started the brevet before pulling out at Omakau. We had a chat and he told me bad weather was forecast to be on its way but he was not sure when it would arrive. As I pedaled off I wasn't too worried - the wind was unpleasant but tolerable as it was not cold. I felt like I was on the home stretch and there was no evidence of bad weather on the horizons.

After drinking litres of chocolate milk at Kurow I headed up the Hakataramea valley for Tekapo. It was still a head wind but not quite as strong as before due to the shelter of the hills either side of the valley. It was a long drag up starting with a tarseal section that went on and on before turning into a gravel road. The landscape around got less cultivated and I could see the head of the valley in the far distance. Onwards I rode as always.

I stopped to fill up my water bottles from the river and got back on my bike. The wind was picking up again as it started funneling down the narrowing valley. I came around a small bluff and was virtually stopped in my tracks by the blast of the wind. Dust and grit were being thrown in my face. I contemplated having to walk this flat stretch of road due to the winds strength. Head down I battled forward, sunglasses on to keep the grit out of my eyes, pedaling along but barely getting above 5km/hour. How would I get to Tekapo about 60 km away at a reasonable time at this speed?

As the road steepened and the valley constricted I kept hoping I would get shelter from the hills around but it was the opposite. Hakataramea saddle was a gap in the mountain range and just caused the wind to accelerate through it rather than slow down. It was getting ridiculous - I was having to walk a lot on even gentle slopes and if I got slightly off line and sideways to the wind I was blown off into the ditch on the side of the road. I thought the wind on top of the Nevis climb was strong but this was in another league. I battled on and found myself shouting pointless expletives at it (it made me feel better though).

Progress was excruciatingly slow but eventually after a number of false tops the true top came in view. If anything the wind now got even stronger. I struggled to stand and often ended up staggering backwards a few steps. There was a gate at the top which I found difficult to open. I tried to heave my bike over but it became a kite each time I lifted it off the ground threatening to fly me back to Kurow. Somehow after many attempts I managed to manhandle it over and I surveyed the scene ahead.

It was an apocalyptic scene. The MacKenzie basin lay ahead, far below or at least I assume it did because all I could see was one huge dust cloud barreling towards me. Very dark menacing clouds were ominously massing ahead and above. The world was a howling deluge of smudged dirty browns, greys and blacks drained of all other color. This was turning into an interesting end to the brevet. I still had about 45 km to go, mostly downhill. Easy normally but hugely daunting in present circumstances.

I headed down having to pedal hard to keep up my slow forward progress, frequently finding myself blown of onto the side of the road. It was getting late and dark. I had put on my jacket with puffy vest under as it was also getting very cold. I had even put on my long rain pants to protect my legs from the sand blasting.

Then the conditions got worse. First hail then the rain and sleet hammered into me carried by the freight train wind. I had to keep pedaling hard to keep warm. Darkness descended onto this lonely scene from hell. I wondered if Barryn and co. were somewhere behind me and hoped they would be alright. I turned into the Haldon Arm road only to unexpectedly find out it was tarseal which was some relief. There was still a long way to go though.

I had two AA battery powered LED front lights - one on my helmet and one on my bars. The bar light was the first to dim and go out - either the batteries had given up or water had gotten into it. My helmet light was still going but giving out a worryingly meagre amount of light. Slowly into the atrocious weather I continued. These were easily the worst conditions I had ever ridden a bike in and to think that just this morning was some of the best.

Finally I made Dog Kennel corner and the main road. I stopped amongst some trees to put on my arm warmers and balaclava. I now had all my gear on. I quickly realized stopping was not a good idea as my body temperature plummeted - I had to keep moving. As I rolled out my head light gave out. The wet wild world around was now all black but my eyes could just make out the white line on the side of the road and I followed it faithfully.

This next last section was a blur and thinking back now it had an air of extreme strangeness and disconnection from reality. I started seeing lights on the side of the road and at one point a huge bizarre organic form from a Max Ernst frottage painting appeared brightly lit on the side of the road. I wasn't stopping to check out what it was though.

The occasional truck went past noisy with lights ablaze. Blinded I had to stop to let my eyes readjust to the dark before setting of again. During one of these brief pauses I put my still working puny red tail light onto my front fork - it didn't help much.

A car slowly came up behind me and cruised at my pathetically slow speed a few meters back. I was being stalked out here in the middle of nowhere! I thought of the film 'Duel' and remembered my 'Deliverance' delusion in the Molesworth during the Kiwi Brevet. I tried to pretend he wasn't there and pedaled on soaked to the skin by now. He then rolled up next to me and the passenger window came down. I looked in - it was Dave King! He asked if I was alright and proceeded to tell me he had spoken to someone further back that had seen me go past. He said they couldn't believe anyone was out on a bike in these terrible conditions - too right!!

There appeared to be plenty of room in his warm dry vehicle for a wet cold cyclist and his bike. He said Tekapo was about 10km away and asked if I was OK to finish it properly...temptation! I bravely said I was fine and watched him drive off into the distance.

I lost all sense of time and distance. I couldn't turn on my GPS as the screen would blind me leaving me unable to see the Ariadne's thread of the highways white line. It was a real surprise then when I finally saw the lights of Tekapo emerge out of the darkness and a huge relief to finally roll up to the church at 11.30pm in the pouring rain. Dave was there as well as Mark Rayward and his partner. It was so nice to be greeted by them all at this late hour. Dave took a photo of me and I headed to my car.

It took forever to get changed and packed as my fingers were frozen. I drove back to the church to see Barryn and Trevor turn up well after midnight. They must of had it bad as well. Being together it would have helped to share the misery though I thought. I got out of my car to greet them and was shocked by how freezing it was - a quick handshake and congratulations and I retreated back to the warmth of the car - had I really biked in that?

I had nowhere to stay so drove home to Christchurch, heater full bore, stopping once to have a nap in the car on the side of the road. I got home at 5.00am and slept most of the day.

Dave posted some photos of Hakataramea pass the morning after - Otago in January??

On this last day I had managed to ride for nearly 19 hours through the best and worst possible conditions I had ever experienced. It was the longest I had ever ridden a bike in one go. I later heard Dave had had to rescue the Aussie Arran Pearson at 3.30am on the slopes of Hakataramea pass after getting caught out in the worst of the snow storm and activating his emergency help button on his spot tracker. Somehow this final day was a dramatic but appropriate end to a nearly indescribable brevet experience.

I managed to finish in 8th in five and a half days which I was very happy with. I have now completed all three brevets - Kiwi, Petit and Great Southern (along with Ollie Whalley and Geof Blance I think?). They are all amazing and unique experiences. The Great Southern brevet though was the hardest (partly due to the weather), most spectacular and most intense experience I have ever had on a bike.

Thanks go to Dave King for his awesome organization which he seemed to have done on his own. And thanks to my beautiful Black Sheep singlespeed that got me through it all without problems or punctures - no epilogue this time. I'll be back!