Words Liam Friary
Images Riley McLay

For this adventure, that place is Te Waipounamu. Starting in Queenstown, we’d catch the TSS Earnslaw to Walter Peak Station, ride part of the Around the Mountain trail then link in the Nevis Road, ending in Bannockburn. It would be ridden over three days, cover over 260km in distance, and ascend over 2800m on terrain that would be 95% gravel. This southern area of Aotearoa is a splendid part of the country and offers so much riding variety – from cycle trails to backcountry gravel.

The crew is another important ingredient when it comes to making these riding experiences great. On this occasion founder of Chapter 2 Bikes, Michael Pryde, and his colleague, Michael Rice – who resides in Japan, were joining me. I outlined that we’d need to be self-sufficient, and gave them the route. There was a bit of back and forth regarding kit, terrain, tyre choice, gear and what they’d encounter. I gave my advice and before long we all were flying into Queenstown.

DAY ONE

We have breakfast in bustling Queenstown and, with food and coffee consumed, we head for the TSS Earnslaw. Early morning cloud breaks away to clear blue skies as we sail across Lake Wakatipu. The boat docks at Walter Peak Station. As we disembark, patrons are intrigued and ask what we’re up to – when we explain, they’re left in awe. This is normal for us, but completely foreign to them. I clip in for the first pedal stroke and cannot wait to transcend elsewhere.

This is the place, the only thing that matters is pedalling from point A to point B. Our point B for the initial day was the largest ride day of the three, and we’d started just after 1pm due to the ferry crossing. The single gravel road wound its way around the edges of a glistening Lake Wakatipu. Before long we were into Mt Nicholas Station. The sun’s heat was oppressive as there wasn’t any shade in this barren terrain. The steep mountains soar into the sky, left, right and centre. I’m instantly aware of how miniscule humans are in this vast landscape. The energy is starting to ever so slightly drain as I fight with the bike across rutted gravel roads. This effort needs to be carefully managed in order to reach this evening’s digs. I layer on some more sunscreen and take large sips from my water reservoir as the sun bears down on me. The Mavora Lakes aren’t far off, and I tell the crew that we will rest and replenish there. It’s a bit of a detour, but sitting on the beautiful lake edges having a snack is something not to be missed. I take in as much as possible and am trying to remind myself to be present. This is the reason why I drifted elsewhere whilst doing life’s other medial tasks, so it shouldn’t be taken for granted.

The effort ramps up after our late lunch. Pacelines form as we try to stay out of the potholes on the increasingly corrugated roads. I search for smooth lines, my body taking a pounding. Strangely, I lean into the pain, drawing strength as my focus narrows to getting to our lodgings before dark. The paceline came and went as we managed our efforts over the remote terrain dotted with farmhouses.

With the maps on screen, I zoom out on my Wahoo head unit to find Mossburn, which is the town we’re staying in this evening. I start to calculate a rough distance but find it hard to work out the math. In any case we’d be there soon enough – right?! Finally, cars and trucks appeared as the town came into view. We aren’t far off now. Arriving at the Mossburn Railway Hotel, we dig into hearty meals, cold beers, and sticky date pudding in our sweat-soaked kits. After a hot shower, I crash onto the soft mattress.

DAY TWO 

Grey, gloomy weather greets me through the curtains. I head for the kitchen to brew an instant coffee and eat some of the continental breakfast on offer.

The crew gets ready and walk out of the old brick building. Our bikes were stashed in the shed at the back of the hotel. As we pull them out, I admire the old signage from days gone by. This was our shortest day – more of a transfer ride really. The day would also be used to get supplies for the next day and prep us for the large ride day that followed.

It wasn’t long before we were grabbing supplies in Lumsden. The crew walk the aisles of Four Square, stocking up but soon realising we’d need to fit everything onto the bike or into bags attached to the bike. This is Tetris-packing – a hard task that requires a bit of practice and patience. Eventually, we packed everything away and headed for coffee. The coffee was served, along with a hot scone and, again, patrons of the café asked where we were heading. The contrast of transport by motor vehicle and push bike became clear during the conversation. The cycle path leads us through farmers’ paddocks to Garston. The rather rundown Garston Lodge didn’t really bother us as we just needed a place to wash and rest.

DAY THREE 

My 5am alarm startles me. I pull back the duvet and clamber out of bed. I start to get things together and pack things away. The crew were eating breakfast in the dimly lit dining room. The kettle boiled and I made an instant coffee.

Not much was said between us as we got on with consuming our calories before the day’s proceedings. Daylight eventually starts to break outside the Garston Lodge and with it, the one streetlight turned off. Bags were stuffed with our overnight clothes and loaded onto bikes. Across the road from our digs is an Airstream Café called Coffee Bomb, so we head there for a decent coffee. It was still a little dark with the moon peeking over silhouetted peaks. It was clear and crisp, but you could tell it could be a warm one later.

The ascent into Nevis kicks up almost straight out of Garston. It wasn’t long before I was shedding layers and onto the easiest cog on my cassette. I had dreamt of being here so kept reminding myself to lean into the pain. The endless switchbacks eventually plateau before you descend into no man’s land. This really is the ‘elsewhere’ I craved. I found solace in the emptiness, my mind quietening to the singular task of riding. The river crossings are plentiful, and they keep on coming. Michael pushes the pace and hits one waterhole too hard, resulting in a puncture. He stabs the tyre with a plug and before long we’re on our way again. It’s here that the mind is quiet and simply focused on the singular task of riding. The sun is hidden behind high cloud which we are thankful for as there’s no shade in these parts.

Of all a sudden, substance is needed. We eventually stop under the only trees for lunch. Lying on the grass, I consider how mundane this time would be at home, reminding myself to savour the experience. The food was needed but takes my body a while to process. Fuelled but heavy-legged, we started the grunt up Duffers Saddle, one of NZ’s highest roads. In hindsight, we should have eaten a little earlier. The relentless double-digit gradients had me slumped over the handlebars as I dug deep into the pain cave. My mind was strong, but my body weakening in the vast, mountainous landscape. I regularly checked my computer’s data – 6.2km, 480m to go. I’m not sure if having the metrics focused or clouded me. In any case, I home in on grinding my way up this saddle. I can finally see the saddle to my left and whilst it’s far off it gives me a boost. I finally summit the ardours climb and bring myself back to earth with some food. The crew is stoked – this feels like the crescendo of the last three days. The views are expansive at the top of Duffers Saddle and the effort was worth it. The thrilling descent drops us down into Bannockburn, which we can see in the distance as we zigzag our way off the saddle. It’s steep and long so puts the climb up the other side into perspective.

The small gravel road turns into a bitumen main road. This is the end of the backcountry and the start of town. We now transcend back into the normal realms of society. I have arranged a van to transport us back to Queenstown. The crew load their bikes onto the trailer, jump into the van, unclip their helmets, and within five minutes they are asleep as we shuttle back to civilisation. Their phones – and mine – keep pinging as we come back into reception. I think to myself I’d rather be buried in the remote wilderness without this device. Again, I dreamed of being elsewhere and off-the-grid, and we were only half an hour out from the journey’s end.