The Otago Central Rail Trail.

____Down to the majestic Dunedin railway station bright and early for what was claimed to be one of the worlds greatest railway journeys. A trip on the Taieri Gorge Railway to the village of Pukerangi, high in the Otago interior. It was very scenic, through the wilderness country as the tracks followed the river; the engineering feats to create the route in the late 1800’s demand admiration, but I think claiming the line as a world great is a bit optimistic. At Pukerangi, I was back on two wheels in splendid isolation, high in pastures full of sheep with weird shaped outcrops of schist rock. Twenty-two kilometres later ,I came to Middlemarch; the start of my journey on the Otago Central Rail Trail. I make camp at Blind Billy’s Campground, where it rains heavily all night.


____Rain all day which spoils an awesome ride along the old pathway of the tracks that are a continuation of the line that brought me up from Dunedin. It is hard packed gravel which seems to drain remarkably well as there are few puddles and very little mud. It’s a busy trail with a lot of cycle tour companies doing packages for tourists; not many kitted out for carrying luggage; as many have their bags transported for them. A cup of tea at the old station house at Hyde and onto overnight accommodation at The Old PO Backpackers at Ranfurly.

The Bike.

The Coastline of Otago.

On the beach at All Day Bay.



The Boulders at Moeraki.



Two metre diameter rock spheres.

Moeraki Harbour.

Cornish Head, north of Karitane Bay, Otago.

Ashburton to Dunedin.

____Out of Ashburton, bright and early on New Years Day. Highway 1 southbound is deserted except for me and the milk tankers. The flat Canterbury Plain seems to have as many cows grazing the grass as there is sheep. Through Temuka and onto Timaru for the night as the road again starts to follow the coast. Timaru, much like Taurango in the north, a busy container port and sea-side resort with a traditional carnival in town.


____ The flat road riding comes to an end when Canterbury turns into Otago. Also at Glenavy, the rain returns. I rent a cabin for the night at Oamaru, a remarkable town of splendid limestone buildings that seem unjustified by it’s size. A handy quarry with quality white stone and the proceeds of a long gone gold-rush are the reason for the unexpected architectural extravagance.

____ A wet morning dries by the time I reach All Day Bay, as the coast road switches between the beach and the cliff top. It’s hard going, after the flat roads of Canterbury, only compensated by an excellent fish and chip lunch at “Lockie’s” in Hampden. I knew it would be could when I saw the queue, a sure sign of a good chippie, the world over. An early finish, as I camp at Moeraki and head off along the beach to investigate the Moeraki Boulders; the Maltesers of the Gods, according to Maori legend.

____Moeraki to Dunedin and probably the hardest day on the bike so far. Beautiful coastal scenery on minor roads that twist and turn; climb and swoop. It’s signposted as a cycle route to Dunedin and as the Highway 1 is closed to bicycles, it’s the only way to go. Mount Cargill Road is long and winding but then drops me down into the city at the speed of sound. I book into an hotel for the night, quite near the city centre; in the morning I have to be up early because I have a train to catch.

Smart Kalapoi Fleet Lined Up Until The New Year.

The Canterbury Plains.

____ Out of the Waipara Valley and onto the Canterbury Plain; a flat road all the way to Christchurch. A big town, well laid out, with Cathedral Square in the centre; being set up for New Years celebrations. A powerful earthquake hit the area on Boxing day but I cannot see any signs of damage; although the cathedral tower is fenced off. Maybe to protect revellers from falling masonry or maybe to protect the cathedral from falling revellers. I spend an afternoon looking around town then ride out to a campsite on the south side. Camped next to an apricot tree with a pub next door.


____ From Christchurch across the plain to Ashburton on a fine sunny day with just a slight headwind. Across the longest bridge in New Zealand at Rakaia; over a mile long and a narrow two-lane. A lot of NZ bridges are narrow with no provision for cyclists; this calls for special tactics to avoid getting squeezed into the wall. I drive in the middle of my lane; anything wanting to come past must wait for a gap in oncoming traffic and use the other lane. I’m sure it annoys some people but as most of the time I ride on the hard shoulder they have little reason to complain.

____ People are always very friendly; always with a lot of questions. Apart from “Where to?”- “How far?”- “Where from?”; a common question is “ Why New Zealand?” to which I have found the best answer is: “Because I hate Australians.” This is not true but always goes down well. The other popular question is: “How’s your bum?” to which I casually answer, ”Ok.” In fact I know exactly how my bum is; thanks to a digital camera with flash and a laptop on to which I can download and enlarge daily images; I have a good database of how my bum is standing up to the rigours of cycle-touring down-under. If there is any demand from the medical profession reading this; I can easily post pictures for your perusal.

Te Papa - National Museum Of New Zealand.



A Winner At Daytona



My Kind Of Beach

Carlsberg Don't Do Sleepercabs............

South Island--Days 1-2-3

____Away from Picton ,bright and early, south to Blenheim and it’s vineyards for breakfast. Then some hard climbs and the Dashwood Pass before reaching the Pacific Coast at Wharanui. With a north wind behind me, I make good headway; stopping at the Store, Kekerengu, for tea. It’s late when I reach Kaikoura, a popular whale-watching town that is bursting to seams. I get squeezed into a corner with my little tent after my first day of more than 100 kms cycling.


____ Gale force winds rip through the campsite during the night; as I am thankful for my sheltered corner. Several tents are torn to shreds by the north-westerly. More coastline riding around Goose Bay, where plenty of seals mess about in the kelp or lounge about on the rocks only yards from the busy road. After the road turns inland there are some serious long climbs, but when the road flattens; the wind changes to a gale from the south making riding nearly impossible. I put into the Staging Post campsite at Hawkswood after less than 50 kms for the day. As storm clouds are looming, the offer of a rustic cabin seems a good idea. I get my money’s worth by lighting the wood burning stove and burning all the logs, all night, in an effort to dry some laundry.

____ Dawn breaks to a cloudless, windless sky; what a difference a day makes. The terrain is not flat but much less demanding. After stops for tea at Cheviot and Greta Valley, it’s a satisfying days ride down to Waipara and the Waipara Sleepers campsite, a railway themed set-up. Sleepers of the large wooden railroad tie sort of thing. Coffee houses seem to be very much in vogue here in NZ; but a pot of tea suits me and is good value with a jug of hot water arriving with the pot and the milk. There’s something you don’t see to often these days any where else.