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Maps, I love
'em. More than that, I get quite excited by them. I collect them like
some people collect phone cards or personalised number plates. The metric
50,000:1 series is my favourite and I've managed to acquire the full set.
I've done heaps of mountain biking up and down the South Island and a
few years ago became fascinated with the prospect of joining the dots
to ride it all in one go. After all - I did have all the maps.
On Xmas Eve
the lads (that's Joe Arts, Guy Wynn-Williams and myself - soon to be known
far and wide as the "orange roughies" on account of our matching orange
Ground Effect tops) headed north for French Pass. The cunning plan was
to ride the length of the South Island off road. We would stay close to
the eastern side of the Southern Alps, scoring as much single track and
4WD, and as little tarseal and carrying, as possible. An epic of biblical
proportions was brewing.
 At
French Pass we hooked up with our support crew - Derek and Moira, the
youngest and best travelled 60 year olds in the country. They have taken
their faithful 1968 VW Combi to every nook, cranny and back water imaginable.
For the next month we would be constant companions. Each day they would
load the Combi with our tents and food, and cart it all to a pre-arranged
campsite that evening. They were an integral part of the adventure and
made considerable sacrifices to help make it happen - but were rewarded
with several hundred excuses to stop for a cup of tea (Derek is a man
who can't drive past a stream without wondering what sort of tea its water
would make).
It's a short
boat trip from French Pass to D'Urville Island and the start of our mission.
Next stop Port Craig. Preparation is the cornerstone of a good expedition
(ask Amunsden) - we spent 3 months nutting out details of the route and
made scores of phone calls to the 40 high country farmers whose land we
would traverse. Their support was great, especially with the recent furore
surrounding the Health and Safety in Employment Act.
Our route
took us from D'Urville Island through the Marlborough Sounds, Rainbow
Valley, Lewis Pass, Craigieburn, Rakaia/Rangitata, Mackenzie Country,
Lindis Pass, Skippers, Mavora Lakes, to Port Craig (near Tuatapere - sausage
capital of NZ). We were surprised by the ease with which we forded some
of the bigger rivers - defeated only by the mighty Waimakariri - resulting
in an 80km detour to find a bridge and an unscheduled night in a shelter.
We ventured into some remote places and crossed some spectacular alpine
passes - on one occasion navigating through a white out by map, compass
and altimeter for 3 hours in a biting Southerly. Nasty. The longest carry
section was for 8 hours going over Shotover Saddle from the Matukituki.
We spent 2 days camped at the head of the Matukituki waiting for the weather
to clear. Boredom was relieved with the activities of various trampers,
climbers and tourists - the most bizarre being two travellers who arrived
in their car thinking they were heading for Haast Pass.
We ate huge
amounts of go fast food. Joe's appetite is Gargantuan - the only bloke
I know who makes his salad up in a plastic bucket. Moira soon got a handle
on provisioning for us and would delight in emptying the local Four Square
store of its entire stock of bananas and avocados. Being largely fuelled
by dried fruit had unfortunate side effects - resulting in the three of
us impersonating a mobile herd of ruminants doing our best to destroy
the ozone layer.
Of course
amongst all this planning we had to order the good weather and keep our
bikes, bodies and minds in one piece. The gods were on our side - we had
near perfect conditions with only four days' rain the whole trip. We suffered
zillions of punctures (the record was 5 wheels out of 6 at one time requiring
13 patches - cursed Spaniard Grass) but suffered no major mechanicals.
The bodies remained intact although Guy went for the big smash around
Mavora Lakes which slowed him down for a few days.
29 days after
leaving D'Urville Island, we arrived at the old school house at Port Craig.
Hugs and handshakes all round then we celebrated with avocado and tomato
sandwiches for breakfast. For the train spotters out there we stashed
1768km under our Mambas and climbed 33,665m (almost 4 times the height
of Mt Everest). 12% of the distance was heavenly single track; less than
5 % was spent on tarseal and carrying - the balance was 4WD and the occasional
shingle road.
Surprisingly
Christchurch seems so much smaller after a month away but my appetite
remains as keen as ever. Avocados. I love 'em . More than that ....
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