Tranz Alpine Express & Christchurch

Tuesday dawned and we packed our gear ready for our journey back to Christchurch.

We passed the morning idly and arrived at Greymouth Station at the appointed time. It seemed that all the tour buses from all different directions were arriving at once. There were people milling about, changing buses, catching taxis, waiting for the train, or onward journey somewhere else.

The bus was due to depart at 1-45pm. There were about 180 people to transfer from Greymouth to Otira to catch the train. The buses arrived late and by the time everybody's luggage was loaded and we were all on board it was gone 2-30pm.

The bus took the same route that the train would have taken, following the Grey River valley and along the side of Lake Brunner. Despite being on the bus rather than the train, it was still a pleasant journey through picturesque countryside.

At Otira the buses drove straight onto the platform and within 30 minutes the transfer to the train was complete. You have to stay in your seat for the first 20 minutes as the train goes through an 11 kilometre long tunnel. Shortly after entering the tunnel a door closes behind the train and large extractor fans remove the diesel fumes.

On the other side of the tunnel we came into Arthur's Pass village and for the next few miles the route runs by the side of the roads that we had ridden down a couple of days earlier along the Waimakariri valley.

At Cass the track turns away from the road and runs along the spectacular Broken River Gorge, which is famous for its viaduct and having 6 tunnels in one mile. The only access to the gorge is via the train, (there are no roads) and while the track was being built, the families of the rail workers lived at the end of the line in shanty town accommodation.  

The water from the Waitamkiriri River is the source of the pristine, untreated water supply to Christchurch.

The Express arrived in Christchurch only 40 minutes late. We had booked into the Jailhouse, just a few minutes ride from the station. The Addington Jail was converted into a backpacker's hostel after it closed in 1999. Guests (inmates) stay in the converted cells, complete with the original thick steel doors. 

The “prison” theme is perpetuated throughout the place with striped bed linen, tablecloths, crockery and the staff are called wardens. The backpackers who work in the hostel are called prisoners and have themed T shirts.

We were held there for four nights before we managed to negotiate our release.

The hostel is well managed, clean and quiet (at the right times). It was one of the best places that we stayed at in New Zealand. It was very popular with all age groups and nationalities.

Christchurch turned out to be a great city for cycling with lots of cycle lanes and dedicated paths. The town was built in the English style with lots of brick and stone buildings. 

The river that runs through the centre is called the Avon and you can ride on it in a punt if you wish. Unfortunately, many of these lovely old buildings (as well as the newer ones) showed signs of earthquake damage and there was a lot of rebuilding work going on.

The museum, arts centre, gallery and botanic gardens are worth visiting, not least because they are free. Preparations were under way for the annual flower festival in the cathedral and the town wizard was busy preaching to the crowd. In the square a large crowd were watching the latest chess game.

The Arts Centre

The Botanic Gardens

Christchurch Anglican Cathedral

Official Town Wizard

View back to Sumner on way to Lyttleton

One day we rode over to Lyttleton. In the early days of colonisation, it was established as a harbour and is a still an important port for the export of coal and timber. Here too, many of the lovely old building showed similar signs of earthquake damage. It was a nice sunny day and after eating lunch listening to a jazz band we cycled along the coast to Corsair Bay for a swim and a welcome lie on the beach.

Our final days in New Zealand were spent with friends Chrissy and Tony at their lovely house just outside Christchurch. We packed the bikes ready for shipping and arranged our accommodation for Sydney.

After 4 months in this fascinating country it was goodbye to the land of the long white cloud and hello to the land of corked hats, kangaroos, cobbers and sheilas.

Arthur's Pass.

Geraldine to Methven – 70km

We were now on the Canterbury Plains so today's ride was across flat agricultural areas, mostly cattle and sheep with a few cereal crops. The road was long and straight and very boring. It was a relief to get to Methven.

Methven to Craigieburn - 76km

With two weeks to fill before our flight out of Christchurch, we decided we had enough time to cycle over Arthur's Pass, the last route on our 'must do in New Zealand' list. It would be hard, not only because of the climb to over 900m, but travelling from east to west, we would be cycling into a head wind all the way. The steepest part of the road is the climb to Porter's Pass but we could take a gravel road up to Lake Lyndon to avoid this. Once we got to Greymouth we would take the 'Trans Alpine' train back to Christchurch.

We were up early in anticipation of a very hard day. After shopping for overnight food supplies and coffee in the Internet cafe we set off. The road out of Methven was another of those long straight, slightly uphill ones that looks flat to the eyes but feels hard on the legs. It was 8 km before it started to drop steeply down into the Rakaia Gorge, a beautiful and welcome relief after all the miles through the plains. Of course, a long steep downhill into a gorge means an equally steep uphill on the other side and this was on a gravel road. But at least it was quiet and with views across to the Mount Hutt and Torless ranges, the scenery was spectacular.

The road climbed back and forth as we sweated our way upwards, eventually coming onto the sealed section to take us along the wide valley, above the gorge. It was then an easy ride of about 18km before we reached Lake Coleridge. The sky was cloudless and the lake was an unbelievable deep turquoise colour. 

Here we turned off onto another gravel road to up to Lake Lyndon which had a sign warning it was a 'good weather only' route. Luck the sun was shining. First though it was time for lunch and a paddle in the river, our first since Haast Pass more than two weeks ago.

Back on our bikes the gravel road wound its way up the valley and it took us a good hour or so to reach the Lake. It was a peaceful vista with several fly fishermen casting for trout. 

A short ride along the side of the lake took us to the main road. As we were hot and tired we thought about taking a swim, but another couple that were already in their costumes looked pretty cold, so we decided against it.

Instead we got back on the bikes for the last 20 kilometers to our camp site for the night at Craigieburn. We rode along a broad valley with the hills and ski fields all around us. The valley was crossed by several deep gorges which meant fast descents and steep climbs out the other side into the vicious head wind. Twice we had to get off and push up the steepest sections. It may have been because it was late Friday afternoon but the traffic here was awful. Lots of fast moving 4wd vehicles and large lorries who didn't want to give an inch of space.

High, towering pillars of limestone rock and cliffs puncture the tussocky grassland giving Castle Hill its name.

By the time we reached Craigieburn, we could hardly have ridden another kilometre. This was the hardest day yet since setting off 18 months ago. We rode into what seemed like a tranquil DOC site with toilet and stream freshwater. There were only a few other campers there and we settled in for a quiet evening, or so we thought. We pitched our tent in a small clearing by the stream, away from everyone else.

Extremely exhausted, we went to bed early at around 10-00pm. Shortly afterwards we heard a vehicle pull in and drive further into the forest. There was lots of shouting and then the sound of deep base notes coming from a music system. We read for half an hour and it was still going on. Steve decided to ask them to turn it down. He walked up the path past the other campers to where the noise was coming from. A group of young men were stood around a camp fire with heavy house type music blaring out. After a bit of swearing they agreed to turn it down.

Just as we were dropping off to sleep another car arrived and pulled into our little clearing with its headlights on full beam. The three German occupants then spent the next 90 mins pitching their tent and unpacking the car. They must have hammered in at least 30 tent pegs, slammed the car door 20 times and drunk at least 12 cans of beer in the process. Eventually after midnight peace descended and we got to sleep.

Not a good night.

Craigieburn to Otira – 54km

Despite the late night, we were awake at seven, but unfortunately so were the Germans, so there was no getting our own back by waking them up with a lot of noise.

We still had blue skies and sunshine and a dry tent to pack. Steve's quote of the day, again painted on the back of a 'Wicked' campervan.

'If it swells.........ride it!'

On the road by 9-00am the battle against the head wind commenced once again. A fresh north westerly was blowing up the wide valley making the slightest rise feel like a steep hill. The general trend however was downhill so for the first two hours we made good progress. We were tempted with the promise of coffee at the Bealey hotel but we had to climb a steep driveway to get to it. We met another couple of Dutch touring cyclists travelling in the opposite direction and they were complaining about having to push their bikes up Arthur's Pass.

After the hotel to slow climb towards Arthur's Pass began. As we climbed up the Bealey river valley the road kept rising steeply to go over rocky bluffs and descending again. Entering the beech forest the road was more sheltered and although there were some steep rises it felt easier without the headwind.

By 1-30pm we made to Arthur's Pass village. Outside the visitors centre we chatted to three Australian ladies touring New Zealand together. 

Lunch was taken at a cafe that had outside tables and two resident Keas. We had to keep a close eye on the bikes in case they took a fancy to our handlebars. They are very intelligent birds and despite all the notices asking people not to feed them they had worked out their own strategy for stealing food. They seemed to spot people with sandwiches in plastic wrappers and wait for them to start to eat the first sandwich. Whilst their attention was elsewhere they would swoop and steal the wrapper with the remaining sandwich. They had also worked out how to operate the outdoor drinking fountain so they had something to wash it down with.

Later we spotted this one trying to eat someones car.

After lunch we started the final climb up to Arthur's Pass at 920m. There was a short steep section, but it was surprisingly easy and when we saw the monument to Arthur Daley Dobson, who was the first European to travel it in 1864, we realised we had reached the top.

The road then dropped steeply into the Otira Gorge. There used to be a steep series of switchbacks up the valley side, but they have now been replaced with a modern viaduct. 

It was still a steep and fast descent under the rock shelter and onwards down the gorge.

Steve got ahead and stopped to take a photo. Karen missed him and went sailing past, but Steve didn't see her. Each of them had lost the other. Karen was in front trying to catch up with Steve who was trying to find her.

Not knowing whether Karen was behind or in front when he reached the bottom of the gorge Steve flagged down a passing car to ask if they had seen her. It was the same three Australian tourists that we had met earlier. They had not passed her and promised to tell her that Steve was on his way down. Oh what confusion!

By now we had arrived at the Otira Hotel. In its early days the hotel had obviously been a very important staging post for the many horse drawn wagons and stage coaches that took passengers over Arthur's Pass before the railway was completed in 1923.

Now it was a shadow of its former glory. The current owners had clearly been enthusiastic when they bought the place as their hotel history book showed, but they had lost interest and the place was run down, dirty and sad. Along with the rest of the village which they also own, it is now up for sale, although real buyer interest seems to be severely lacking.

Otira to Greymouth – 81km (total 11,002km)

As soon as we got to bed, the wind increased and it started to pour with rain. Waking in the morning the rain had abated to a heavy drizzle and low clouds had obscured everything. We cooked our own breakfast, which seemed to please our host. We hung around to see if the rain would stop, but it just got heavier and in frustration we set off anyway. At least it was warm.

The wind was fierce to start with but as the valley widened it eased a little, but the rain kept on. There was not view to see due to the low crowd and just kept our heads down, focused on getting Greymouth no matter what. By 11.00am we were just a bit damp so we stopped for coffee and scones at Jackson's, another historic hotel. This one was nicely renovated and popular. After that the road went through the forest so was sheltered from the wind, but the rain became torrential and there were a lot of rolling ups and downs.

After 60km we reached Kumara and had to stop to get some food. We were embarrassed walking into the cafe as we were so wet the rain was dripping off us and our shoes squelched. Luckily there was no-one else there so we quickly gobbled a pie and cake before we got too cold.

The final 20km to Greymouth were flat and for a while it actually stopped raining. We got to the Neptune hostel, another converted hotel, stripped off our soaking gear and jumped into a hot shower. A pint of beer and a meal in the local Indian was all we could manage.

Monday dawned and still the rain teemed down. We booked another night in the hostel and brought our train tickets for Tuesday. Later that afternoon the sun came out and we went to the station to pick up the tickets. We discovered that a landslip had closed the line between Greymouth and Otira and we would have to go in a bus up to Otira before catching the train, which after Otira disappears into a five mile long tunnel. Not the trip we were looking forward to.  

Mount Cook & Mackenzie Country

Lake Ohau to Glen Tanner – 75km

Wow, what a day!!! an 'everything was easy' day. During the night we were woken several times by showers of rain, gusting winds and a small creature feasting on our loaf of bread. Looking out of the tent there was an obvious change of wind direction. Overnight it had turned through almost 180 degrees so it would be uphill into the wind yet again. The other problem was that we would have to retrace our pedal strokes 17.5km back to Highway 8, a thing we always hate to have to do.

The map showed a track which ran along the lake shore to the east, joining up with a gravel road into Twizel which would save going up the hill. Unfortunately it was gated and the gate was padlocked.

Setting off up the hill it was surprisingly easy, even with the moderate head wind. As often happens there were a lot more flat and downhill parts than we remembered and it took us less than an hour to get back to the main road.

As we turned North towards Twizel the strong southerly pushed the bikes along and a gentle downhill had us sailing along at up to 30km/h with hardly any effort. There is a wide flat valley floor here but all around us were mountains. We got into Twizel by 11am and were relieved to find an ATM, the first for three days. This town was built in the 1960's to house the construction workers for the hydro-electric scheme. It was due to be demolished once that work was completed, but has now become a thriving and developing town.

The town centre was busy with some sort of 'event'. Apparently the plan had been to hold a wine festival, but not enough wine producers had been interested so the local businesses had decided to do their own thing. There was music and various stalls but everyone was in coats and scarves as it was freezing cold.

Setting off again we still had the wind at our heels as we crossed the wide Pukaki to Ohau canal then turned left onto highway 80 to Mount Cook Village. Our guide book warned us that the prevailing wind was north westerly and the ride up the valley could be difficult but today it just carried on pushing and instead we felt sorry for the five touring cyclist who passed us in the opposite direction, all struggling into the head wind.

The road undulates along the edge of Lake Pukaki, giving fantastic views up the valley with Mount Cook at the top. The summit was partially obscured by clouds but these slowly cleared to reveal the snow topped peak in all its glory.

We decided to camp at Glen Tanner, about 20km south of Mount cook Village as the camp site had electricity and showers as well as a bar and cafe. In the morning we would ride up to the top of the road and walk to the Tasman Glacier. As the sun set about 9.30pm the snow capped summit turned pink against the clear blue sky.

Glentanner and Mount Cook

The wind had increased overnight and the cloud was low over the mountains. One of the cyclists on the camp site had decided to cycle up to Mount Cook and left the site early. We were away by about 9-00am, but we had gone no further than 1km when we decided that the wind was just too strong and we turned back.

We spent of the rest of the day updating blog and doing our chores.

Later that afternoon the other cyclist returned having had a very tiring and fruitless ride to Mount Cook Village.

As we sat in the service center drinking a beer, we learned that another cyclist had arrived.

That evening we chatted with Declan. He had quit his teaching job in the UK and rented out his house to travel the World by bike.

During the night the tent was buffeted by gale force winds and heavy rain. Despite this we managed to stay dry, but got very little sleep.

Come the morning the wind had dropped and the weather had improved. Along with Declan, we managed to get a lift from a Swiss guy called Roland, up to Mount Cook Village. Roland had travelled extensively by bicycle and we learned a lot from him during the short time we talked.

The day improved as it wore on. Roland drove us up to the Tasman Glacier and the terminal lake at its base. It was amazing to see icebergs floating in the lake. Some of them must have been 100 metres long and 30 metres high (above the water). As we climbed the hill to overlook the lake we didn't realise at first that we were actually looking at a glacier. The surface was black, covered with moraine. It was staggering to read that where we stood, the glacier had towered 700 metres above us only 14,000 years ago and that Lake Pukaki was the result of an earlier terminal lake at that time.

Later we drove up to the Hooker Valley and had great views of Mount Cook up close. The mountain looked like the face of father Christmas formed in the snow. 

We walked up to Kea point and to the edge of the valley formed by the glacier. The wind was up again and was so strong that it was almost blowing us backwards as we walked.

We had lost sight of Roland by now, so walked back to the Old Mountaineer's Cafe at the village. There we scanned a copy of the book by Mary Hobbs about her and Charlie, her husband's fight to open the cafe at Mount Cook Village and made a mental note3 to get an electronic copy.

A Korean lady gave us a lift back to Glen Tanner and that night as we were out of food we had to eat in the restaurant. Its a hard life.

We learned that Declan was going to stay on for a few more days and cycle up to Mount Cook the next day, but for us it was time to move on.

Glen Tanner to Tekapo 80km

The 'Pedallers Paradise' book says that there is often a strong north westerly to blow you back down the hill from Mount Cook. It won't be a surprise to any of you keen cyclists to learn that in fact there was a strong southerly, but we're used to head winds. It was a lovely ride down the west shore of Lake Pukaki, turning east onto highway 8 which continues along it's south shore. 

There is a large lay-by here where all the tour buses stop to allow their passengers to take the iconic photo of Mount Cook at the top of the lake.

After only 8km on the highway we turned off again to continue up the east side of the lake, a total of 45km around the lake shore. We were heading for the canal, part of the hydro-electric power scheme, which runs from Lake Tekapo to Lake Pukaki. There is a tarmac road all the way along this canal that used to be open to the public, but for some reason it has been closed. Other cyclists had told us to by-pass the gates and ignore all the signs saying no walkers or cyclists.

There was a steep hill to start with until we reached the canal. It was a surprise to see a lot of camper vans parked on the opposite side of the canal. We wondered what attracted all these people to park here when there were so many more picturesque camping areas. Then we saw a guy with a fishing rod washing an enormous salmon. Just up the canal was a large salmon farm and the campers come to catch the escapees.

The road along the canal was flat but being at about 700m elevation it was very exposed. Crossing one of the saddles the side wind was so strong, it was as much as we could do to keep the bikes on the road. Thank goodness there was no traffic and it was blowing us away from the water.

The canal twists and turns a lot so we had variable winds, sometimes in our faces, sometimes at our tails. We had to negotiate three more locked gates, all telling us we shouldn't be there, but we ignored them.

Arriving in Lake Tekapo village, we decided it was about time we had a night in a real bed. After a fruitless search for cheap accommodation we went to the camp site and put up the tent.

Lake Tekapo to Geraldine – 90km

Today the route was generally downhill on Highway 8, dropping about 600m in 90km. It was a fine but cloudy day. Of course it wasn't all downhill, there were a few short steep climbs, but at least the wind was behind us. After crossing Burke's Pass at 709m we then dropped down quickly to Fairlie. Having done 43km in 2 hours we decided we could easily get to Geraldine and decided to ring ahead and book a bed in a hostel after the disappointment of last night.

Of course, once we set off, we realised that the road turned north east and into the wind. We pushed on hard and, except for a late lunch at Happy Valley, didn't stop again till Geraldine. The hostel was in a converted maternity hospital and very quiet. Needless to say we slept very well.