Hitting the dirt: NZ Day 14

Today was the culmination of years of anticipation - I was finally going to set my tyres to the famed Otago Central Rail Trail.  I awoke very early, not from excitement, but from an excruciating and unexplained pain in my foot.  I hopped out of bed and hobbled around the kitchen, determined not to let my mystery injury get in the way of hampering long-awaited day of cycle touring.

Over the previous few days Jer had been having a bad run with his usual breakfast of creamed rice - the cyclist's favourite.  For some reason he kept having problems with tin openers, and kept dropping a heap of metal shavings from the tin into his creamed rice, which he would then angrily discard.  This naturally amused me greatly, so to take my mind off my sore foot, I hid the can opener so I could watch him futilely look for it, then get all crabby when he couldn't find it.  My ruse failed - as soon as he opened the draw he said "where's the tin opener?".  I said "Dunno, there probably isn't one", to which he replied "Is that right?  It was here yesterday, I checked it specifically - you've hidden it".  The jig was up, but I did manage to get the last laugh - he once again managed to get a heap of metal filings into his creamed rice and had to angrily discard it.  Delicious.

Once Jer had prepared and consumed a suitable metal-free breakfast alternative, it was time to get moving and hit the trail.  We popped in to thank our hosts at The Workshops, Steve and Sam - we had a tremendous stay and were very thankful for their efforts to make us welcome and teach us a lot more about the history of Central Otago.  They suggested we have a coffee before setting off, which sounded like a sensible way to start the day.  Before we knew it two hours of chatting had passed, and it was well and truly time to get moving.  We said our farewells and rode off towards the trailhead at Cylde - I was genuinely sad to be leaving Steve and Sam at The Workshops, and hoped that I'd get back again to see them someday.

All aboard!

We slowly pedalled across the town of Clyde, towards the old railway station, which we figured was a logical place to start the trail.  We found the old station building contained a display of restored machinery,  which we looked at for a while before heading over to the sign marking the official start of the Rail Trail.  Arriving felt like a momentous occasion, and it seemed we weren't the only one who thought so - a few other cyclists were standing around at the start, posing for photos with their bikes under the clear and bright Otago sky.  After 12 months of planning and two weeks of riding across New Zealand to get here, the big moment had finally arrived.  We pedalled out of Clyde on the Otago Central Rail Trail, towards the town of Alexandra and eventually Dunedin.  As soon as I hit the hallowed gravel of the trail, my earlier foot pain evaporated, and I was happily on my way.

Section of original railway line by the platform.  We couldn't believe our luck with the weather - after the freezing rain of yesterday, it was now clear and warm

I've seen some pretty excited cyclists in my time, but nothing could compare to how excited these cyclists were at the start of the trail, and with good reason

Away we go!  Central Otago is apparently classified as an upland desert, hence it's usually a pretty arid place.  Just prior to our visit there had been an unseasonally wet winter, and we were told it was a rarity to be seeing the landscape looking so verdant

We quickly passed the cyclists we'd seen at the start, near the only remaining signal post left on the trail

The original rail bridges are retained on the Otago Rail Trail, which makes for an uninterrupted ride.  Back in the olden days there wouldn't have been any handrails, these were a more recent addition

We were making excellent time on the smooth trail, and soon reached the town of Alexandra.  From there the trail turned to the north-east, and the terrain took on a much more rocky and arid feel.  The trail surface remained excellent, and our skinny tyre touring bikes (700x35c for the bike geeks who simply have to know) proved the perfect tools for the job, cutting through the gravel and remaining stable at higher speeds.  In fact riding these bikes on the trail was much the same as riding on the road, and we were easily gliding along at 30km/h as we headed away from Alexandra, onto the remote Galloway Flat.

Yellow flowers covered the outcrops of schist rock - the joys of spring cycling in Otago

I have no idea why I was standing up, probably trying to look tough for the camera.  The Otago Central Rail Trail has no steep inclines - the ye olde steam trains couldn't handle anything more than a 1:50 gradient, and now we were reaping the benefits

The first of the ganger's sheds, many of which are now converted to trail-side shelters containing excellent information panels with comprehensive information about that particular area.  I stopped at every single one along the 150km trail, and never got tired of reading them

Jer checks out one of those things that shows you various points of interest in your field of view.  I have no idea what they're actually called, but I'm sure it's something more succinct than my description

As we stood around looking at the ganger's shed and reading the information panels, we saw a group of riders slowly making their way up the trail towards us.  They were a group of retired people on an organised tour, riding hired bikes with no luggage.  They stopped very briefly at the shed, then left again after a minute or so.  We left a little while later, and quickly passed them within a kilometre.  At the next ganger's shed the same thing happened - we spent about 15 minutes reading and taking photos, they slowly rode in, spent a minute there, then rode out.  We kept leapfrogging them for about 15km, until we passed a spot on the trail where their support bus had stopped and laid out a picnic lunch.  They probably thought we were missing the point of riding the old railway line, with our whizzing along through the countryside between places at full speed.  But little did they know that our pace on the trail was all part of our Central Otago Kokomo strategy - get there fast and then take it slow.

I have seen this viaduct in roughly one billion rail trail photos.  It seemed fitting that I should add my own shot to that number

Muttontown Gully in full bloom.  Although I'd seen heaps of photos of the arid Otago landscape, I'd not seen many featuring the lush landscape we were seeing.  It was invigorating and captivating

Jagged outcrops of schist rock crowned the ridges, in contrast to the lush gullies

Jer puts his body on the line among the schist to bring you some photos.  After our climbing experience on the Clutha River goldfields, we were as sure footed as mountain goats

I was surprised to find trailside toilets along the way.  The people who manage the trail seem very committed to effective visitor management, and as a result visitors seemed to respect the landscape - I never saw one piece of litter or graffiti on the way

Jer makes his way towards Chatto Creek across some grazing land.

Just before lunch we arrived at the historic Chatto Creek Tavern, for a bite to eat and a rest in the shade.  The sun was scorchingly hot, and the tavern grounds offered a shady outdoor area to eat our lunch, complete with hammocks for passing cyclists.  The Chatto Creek Tavern is a real gem - situated just off the trail in what is pretty much the middle of nowhere, it provides an extremely civilised spot to stop and while away a few hours, even have a beer if the mood suits.  We were chatting to the owner of the pub for a little while, and she mentioned that although she had not yet ridden the trail, there was a big hill just up ahead that we might find a bit tough.  We decided to heed her warning, and indulged in a massive pub feed, lounging around in the cool of the shady garden.

The front of the Chatto Creek Tavern.  The pub can be accessed from directly from the rail trail, which runs just behind the building.  The trail must have surely breathed new life into this place, which appears to do a roaring trade from passing cyclists

I can't imagine too many places in the world where filthy, lycra clad cyclists would be welcomed into a country pub.  It's an odd juxtaposition throughout Central Otago - the strange and happy coming together of poncy out-of-town cycling types and work-hardened local farming folk

This tiny shed was once New Zealand's smallest post office, located in the tavern grounds.  It's still kind of functional, the post box gets emptied a few times a week

Chilling it up in one of the Chatto Creek hammocks.  This photo was taken by Jer as he was sneaking up to try and shake me off it - he failed

Lunch overlooking the rail trail.  I don't think we saw a single rider go by without stopping in at the tavern for refreshment

In mid-monologue about how much I like chips.  I like them a lot

I've been seeing these timber garden guys all over New Zealand for years.  Down here in Central Otago, even they were getting in on the cycling action

Ride the tiger

We finished our lunch and prepared to set off to the "steep bit" of the Otago Rail Trail - the climb over Tiger Hill.  I have to admit I wasn't particularly concerned about the climb, but as I got back out on the trail the combination of a big meal and the hot sun was making me feel fairly lethargic.  Within a couple of kilometres we reached the base of the hill, and the incline increased noticeably - not to the point of it being challenging, but certainly the trail was no longer an easy cruise.  The ride up the hill was entirely pleasant, and it was the first time we'd really gotten amongst the cuttings through the jagged schist as we wound our way to the crest.

Approaching the point where the trail turned and began its winding ascent up Tiger Hill

The colours of Central Otago were mind boggling.  Every direction we looked yielded oil painting-esque views

The climb didn't feel like much, but like every climb in New Zealand, it pays to look behind you for a perspective of just how massive these seemingly small hills really are

The trail twisted and turned through numerous cuttings all the way up Tiger Hill

Near the top of the climb was another ganger's shed with an information panel.  I can't remember exactly what was the comment about those hills, but it was something like "these hills have more wrinkles than your nanna's blanket".  All the information panels are well worth taking your time to examine along the trail - as well as being informative, they are peppered with some pretty dry humour

It was lambing season on the trail.  I'd heard that Merino lambs are easily separated from their mothers, so I was trying not to push these two little guys too hard.

In the end I had to gun it past them, and they split up and headed back the way they came

Jer rides over the top of Tiger Hill, getting some very brief respite from the biting Otago sun

After cresting Tiger Hill we enjoyed a brief descent, before the trail resumed its gentle climb all the way to its highest point about halfway along its length.  We soon arrived at our destination for the day, the small town of Omakau.  We hadn't ridden all that far, only around 45km, but I was feeling pretty tired and ready to relax for the afternoon.  While the trail isn't at all technically difficult, and the elevation profile is nowhere near threatening, there was something about it I found tiring and challenging.  I don't think it was the physicality of the riding, but rather the mental challenge of just trying to absorb the vast landscape and take it all in, plus our constant stopping and starting.  It seemed around every corner was some new vista that we needed to stand around and appreciate for another ten minutes or so.  Although we'd spent well under three hours in the saddle, our ride from Clyde to Omakau had taken us more than five hours in total.

Just after this photo was taken, a large bird noisily emerged from the Omakau goods shed and frightened the life out of Jer.  I don't think I need to mention that I found it hilarious

A few of these goods sheds still remain on the rail trail.  I couldn't resist riding through them

Jer shelters next to the Omakau ganger's shed, while I do my usual routine of reading all the signs, exploring all the buildings and generally mucking around for ages

Omakau is right on the rail trail, and after a little while exploring the old railway station site, we rolled into town.  The weather was fine and there was plenty of daylight left, so we decided to take the short detour to the nearby town of Ophir, about 2km away.  We rolled across a flat farming plain, before ending up on the short main street of Ophir.  The town certainly is worth the detour - the whole place looked like a time capsule from yesteryear.  As with most of the towns we visited, the old buildings of Ophir were far from stagnant, and were still being used as shops, post offices and houses.  This sense of living history is one of the great delights of Central Otago, where everything is as it was back in the day, but the people haven't let time stand still.  We rolled through Ophir and soon ended up at the historic Daniel O'connell suspension bridge.  As we stood there marveling at the amazing stonework and engineering in the bridge, a little bus turned up and disgorged a heap of cyclist looking types - it was the same people we had seen riding along the trail earlier in the morning.  I got talking to the tour guide, and apparently they left their bikes on the trail, and got a lift the 2km to check out the bridge.  They weren't going into Omakau, but heading straight back to the bikes and continuing along the trail until much later in the day.  This seemed strange and lazy to me - I was very much enjoying transitioning from place to place in Central Otago, and spending the time at each location to get a feeling for the history and the landscape.  I almost felt sorry for these people that they  were missing out on all that, only getting a fairly condensed and I imagine somewhat sterile version of the experience we were having.

The bridge seems almost excessively grand to cross a small creek in a pretty remote location

I'm no bridgeologist, but I reckon these doors probably contain the drums to wind tension on the cables.  Can anyone tell me if this is correct?

Jer looks on as the cycle tour group quickly swarm over the bridge then zoom off again, back to their bikes on the trail

Kicking back in Omakau

After exploring the bridge for a while, we pedalled back to the town of Omakau, to our accommodation at the Omakau Commercial Hotel.  We were greeted by the enthusiastic manager Matt, who showed us around the old building and grounds.  Originally built in 1898 as a boarding house, the hotel has been lovingly restored by the current owners, Stacey and Mike.  Actually, to say it's lovingly restored is a huge understatement - this building goes beyond a labour of love, and the effort and results of the restoration puts it in a league of its own.  The accommodation and dining areas have been tastefully refurbished to what I imagine would have been the height of luxury in the early 1900s - it's a real treat.  I've been in a lot of old pubs before and generally the tag "historic" means they are pretty ratty, and "restored" often means they have been gutted and refitted with whatever interior is the trend of the day - but not the Omakau Commercial Hotel.  The attention to detail is quite spectacular, and all the luxurious touches were very much appreciated by two cycle tourers who were used to pretty basic accommodation.  The building was without question the most welcoming hotel I have ever set foot in.

Bikes were well catered for at Omakau - I still having trouble getting my mind around the warm acceptance of bicycles in all these tiny Central Otago towns

The library and sitting room at the Omakau Commercial Hotel - I felt like some sort of James Bond super villain lounging around in here.  Note the ghostly figure in the mirror

Inside the huge building was a labyrinth of rooms and passageways.  I found it difficult to photograph - there were lots of atmospheric nooks and crannies that all contributed to the overall vibe of the place

As per usual, we managed to make our rooms look like a pannier bomb had exploded in them within about 15 seconds of arriving

The owners must have read the blog to learn more about us - Jer's room was equipped with a ladies vintage grooming station, complete with mirror and dainty hairbrush for his long girly locks.  These kind of little touches everywhere made staying at the Omakau Commercial Hotel such a great experience

My room looked to me like some kind of 1908 version of a presidential suite, and was even equipped with bathrobes (rare for a pub), which I duly put on and strutted around the upper floor of the hotel.  As I was swanning around checking the place out I bumped into a group of arriving cyclists, who clearly though I was pretty weird getting around in my scandalously short gown at 3pm in the afternoon - I later realised that I was actually sporting the "hers" robe!  After a long shower we headed out into town to see what was happening. 

Omakau is only a tiny place, but like everywhere we went in Central Otago, it had a strangely energetic vibe.  The town had all the usual small town things like a pub and a service station and a library, as well as a very modern bike shop, and a lot of boutique accommodation catering to cyclists.  As we wandered around we saw a lot of people riding around in town, clearly from the trail.  I already thought Central Otago was a great place, regardless of the cycling aspect - the fact that it was so bike friendly was fast cementing it in my mind as some kind of cycle touring paradise.

If you're ever in Omakau, you NEED to go to the antique shop across the road from the hotel.  Or is it a junk shop?  I don't know, but it was the craziest collection of crazy crap I've ever seen, jammed into a little room, and all for sale!  Plus the guy that runs the place is a very funny man and a total legend

We stopped in here for afternoon tea, I had coffee and piece of cake.  The cake and coffee was great, but what I should have done was had a pie.  Apparently this place makes legendary pies, and later in our journey a few Kiwis chastised me for not getting a Muddy Creek Cafe pie.  I guess it means I need to go back to Central Otago and redeem myself

Our night at Omakau was the first and only night of the entire tour where Jer and I had seperate rooms, so naturally we were keen to spend some time apart after two weeks straight of living in each others pockets.  We decided to throw competing parties in our hotel rooms, to which the other person wasn't invited.  We headed to the local 4 Square supermarket for supplies, then retired to our respective rooms to party down.

My room party involved me eating chips, drinking L&P and reading all the awesome historical information in the room provided by the hotel.  Jer's party involved eating pineapple lumps and playing a Sega Megadrive emulator on his laptop.  I'm confident my party was the winner

We reconvened in the bar to have a few beers and dinner at the hotel.  We sat outside in the warm afternoon sun having a pint and watching the world go by - a world that seemed to consist of a cyclist arriving every five minutes or so.  It happened that the hotel was completely booked out that night with rail trail travelers, which certainly made for a lively atmosphere when we went back inside.  It was a little odd to be standing inside a remote country pub listening to a room full of bar chit-chat about derailleurs and elevation profiles and sore bums - I imagine the original bar conversations in 1898 could not have been more different.  After dinner I was heading back up to my room when I bumped into Matt, the manager of the hotel.  He asked if I'd like to see the original stables at the back of the hotel, near where I had parked my bike - it turns out it's where they filmed some of the Speight's beer commercials back in the day.

The old stable is made of Otago schist rock, and is one of the original buildings in Omakau

As with the main building of the hotel, the interior is full of historical artefacts from around the area.  The bar is instantly recognisable to those who are familiar with the beer commercials

After checking out the old stable, which had found a new purpose as a building for private functions, I went back to my room to lie around on the bed and reflect on my first day on the Central Otago Rail Trail.  So far the trail had exceeded all my expectations, and I was completely spellbound by the places we'd visited and things we'd seen every step of the way.  Something about Central Otago was having a profoundly calming effect on me, and I lay there feeling tired and content, and excited about what unexpected delights the next day on the trail would bring.  Of course, the day still had one final treat in store - for the first time in two weeks I was able to drift off to sleep without being subjected to the nocturnal sonic juggernaut that is Jer's snoring.  All was peaceful in Central Otago.

Cruising the Clutha: NZ Day 13

Today was a non-cycling day based in the Central Otago town of Clyde, but by no means a traditional "rest" day - we had big plans to try and find out what Clyde was all about.  I set an alarm and woke up early, a rarity for a day when I didn't have to be on the road, to get some photos of Clyde in the morning sunlight.  Stepping outside, we discovered that it had been raining very heavily overnight, and low cloud and fog was going to hamper our efforts to get any sort of decent photographs.  Regardless, we spent an hour strolling around the historic streets before returning to our accommodation for breakfast.

A gloomy morning in Clyde, but still very pleasant

More photographic "hilarity" - this is apparently Jer's favourite photo of the tour

The dam is clearly visible from the main street of Clyde.  I was surprised by just how close it is to town

Our brisk stroll in the damp, chilly air didn't yield a whole lot of photos, but we did discover a few new nooks and crannies around Clyde that we hadn't seen the previous day.  We returned to The Workshops, and ate a quick breakfast before setting off on our main adventure for the day - a boat tour of historic sites on the mighty Clutha River, with Clutha River Cruises.  The boats were moored downstream at the medium sized town of Alexandra, about 10km away.  Fortunately, our hosts Steve and Sam also run Clutha River Cruises, so getting a lift to town wasn't a problem.

Here's a great mariner's breakfast idea from Jer - a carrot and a cup of tea

Nautical but nice

Jer and I are both fairly hardcore boating enthusiasts, and were very excited at the prospect of spending a morning out on the water.  We arrived at the Alexandra boat mooring a little early, so we ventured off for an hour or so of exploring the town, as well as seeking out the obligatory morning coffee.

I was delighted to see numerous early series Land Rovers and Land Cruisers still plying the streets of Central Otago.  Here's one crossing the Alexandra bridge.  Yes, I am a Land Rover nerd...

Yep, that's a clock on the side of a mountain.  Apparently it's lit up at night and everything

We returned to the mooring to find both vessels ready to go.  The larger vessel, the Mata-Au is particularly impressive, and originally began life as a harbour pilot boat.  It has since been fitted out to be more of a luxury power cruiser, with a wide beam and huge engines from its days as a commercial vessel.  Jer and I crawled all over it doing what we always do when we are in a nautical situation - trying to squeeze in as many boat-specific terms as possible in a vain attempt to bamboozle each other.  The time soon came to get moving, and we transferred onto the other vessel, a large pontoon craft called the Nevache II. It was only Sam, Jer and myself on the pontoon vessel, and we were lucky to be on our own private excursion into the mining heritage of the Clutha River.

The Clutha River Cruises vessels ready to take on passengers

As we rounded the first bend of the river and lost sight of town, we were transported into another world.  We plunged into an immensely steep and tall gorge, with the cold wind and light drizzle biting our faces as we cruised up the river.  The river itself was a peculiar shade of greenish blue, and was a powerfully fast flowing body of water.  The temperature was around 10 degrees celcius and the sky an ominous grey, with the gloomy conditions enhancing the stories of hardship from the mining days.  The gorge was bathed in an odd grey light and lacked contrast, making the whole place seem even more bleak and desolate - and from all accounts the Central Otago minefields weren't a very happy place for those trying to eke a living from the rugged landscape.  Sam was telling us all about the thousands of miners who lived and worked along this stretch of river in the 1800s, when she suddenly pointed to the side of the gorge and said "do you see the miner's hut over there...?"

Do you see the miner's hut?  In the dull light, and unaccustomed to a new landscape, I couldn't see a thing...

...then I spotted it!  Miner's had built thousands of these huts into the cliff faces.  It was amazing to see dozens of them as we cruised along, still left standing as intact as the day they were abandoned

Another hut built under a rocky outcrop on the hillside.  Once we had our eye trained for identifying them on the rocky banks, we were spotting them everywhere

Stepping into history

I have absolutely no idea how long we were riding along in the boat - I was so engrossed in hearing about the history and trying to spot things in the gorge that I completely lost track of time.  We eventually landed at a place known as Doctor's Point, which was one of the larger permanent settlements along the river.  The remains of a few buildings were huddled around the only flattish piece of ground for miles around, surrounded by innumerable huts and mine workings spread as far as the eye could see to the top of the gorge far above.  Sam pointed out an odd looking group of rocks jutting out from the hillside above us, and told us that was the site of a more modern mine from the mid-1900s, complete with a dam and old abandoned machinery.  We eagerly asked if it was possible to get up there for a look - when we were told the answer was yes, we were off across the mining wasteland like a shot, eagerly scrambling upwards across the loose rocks.

The original door frame of a hut at Doctor's Point.  This must have been a fairly prestigious part of the settlement, with several structures resembling free standing houses

The remains of an old building overlooking Doctor's Point

More of the old settlement at Doctor's Point

The landscape still bears the scars of complete deforestation and decimation by the miners in their search for gold.  We scrabbled over huge piles of spoils, where literally no stone had been left unturned

Finding and climbing the old miners trails up the gorge was difficult and treacherous work, particularly in our inappropriate footwear

After a challenging climb we reached the more modern mid-1900s mine site, where they attempted to dig into the hillside using modern technology.  From all accounts, this mine was a failure that yielded very little

An upturned ore cart amongst the rocks by the Clutha River

The scene faced by the old miners wasn't this serene - back in the days before the dam the river was a raging torrent, unsuitable for boats.  All supplies had to be carried in and out by foot and wheelbarrow

An old block still swings on rusted cables, high above the river.  The constant creaking and tapping of metal added to the eerie mood

The hillside was carved with an immense network of water races, precisely engineered and hand built with just the right incline over dozens of kilometres to supply water to the gold workings.  The water race is just visible in this photo, it looks a bit like a walking track.

Abandoned machinery at the industrial mine site, high above the Clutha River.  The river was a long way below us, and the weather was changing fast

The weather was starting to change, and as per usual we were completely ill-dressed for the occasion, sporting jeans and canvas street shoes.  As the rain got heavier and the wind howled, the old mine site took on a far more ominous vibe, and we agreed it was time to go.  We gingerly made our way down towards the river, which was torturously slow going on the now wet rocks.  In addition to the cold and the damp and the wind and the rock, there was a completely unexpected olfactory element to proceedings - the deliciously fragrant and intense smell of thyme.  During the mining days the hillsides were stripped bare of all vegetation, but since the miners left, huge tracts of wild thyme with its purple flowers had re-colonised the rocky landscape.  We were told the thyme was originally introduced to the area by immigrants from China, and was grown all over the goldfields.  I've heard it said that sense of smell is one of the most powerful triggers for memory, and the pervading fragrance of thyme clung to my clothes for weeks afterwards.  In fact, upon returning to Australia, I planted a little stand of thyme in the garden, and every time I walk by I crush some leaves between my fingers and am instantly transported straight back to the Clutha River on that gloomy November day.

Jer stops in an old hut to enjoy a world famous carbonated caffeinated cola beverage.  It was fast becoming our drink of choice for this tour - I can see why pro peloton riders enjoy it so much

I inspect an entrance to a miners hut in a cliff face...

...once inside a vast and spacious network of rooms and chambers tunneled deep into the hillside.

Jer stands at the entrance of another underground tunnel network, under a jumbled pile of schist rock

It was mind boggling that all this history was just sitting out there - largely unchanged since the gold ran dry and the miners walked off all those years ago.  I'd seen a bit of mining history in Australia before, generally town type things like old pubs and banks.  It occurred to me that these old time mining booms only really favoured those providing services to the miners, and things like old shops and banks only showed how the fortunate ones lived.  On the minefields, it must have been a very different story, as men desperately tried to carve a living from the barren and increasingly crowded hills, most never making any money at all.  As I stood out here on the banks of the Clutha River, standing in the freezing cold drizzle amongst the ruins of a ramshackle hut, the brutal reality of life for a pioneering Central Otago miner really hit home.

After our long descent, we were glad to be back at Doctor's Point

Upon returning to the boat, the water level had risen by at least 50cm, up onto the bank.  Apparently the water level constantly changes, as the flow is altered depending on electricity demands at the dam

I was surprised  to learn that the dam was completed and filled only in 1991.  The river as we were seeing it was still very much a new landscape, and these major changes to the towns and farms in the area had only happened about twenty years ago - for some reason I had just assumed it must have been built in the 50s or 60s.  Once I was aware that the completion of the dam was only recent, I did see and hear a few things throughout the rest of my travels that led me to believe that the damming of the Clutha River is still a very contentious topic for many people in Central Otago.

After returning to shore at Alexandra, we went with Steve and Sam back to The Workshops, where we all enjoyed a long lunch in the outdoor BBQ area.  Jer and I were like a pair of eager school kids, and spend a couple of hours asking questions about Central Otago and New Zealand in general - we were privileged to have such knowledgeable and interesting people as our hosts.  After lunch was finished we walked back to the main street of Clyde, for a coffee in what was originally the old bank building.  As we sat there looking out on the street, I realised that I was seeing a lot of cyclists on touring bikes riding by throughout the afternoon.  It wasn't a huge number of riders, but to see ten or so other cycle tourers on the same day is a bit of a rare thing, and more evidence that there must be something very special drawing cyclists to the trail - I was buzzing to think that tomorrow morning I'd be finding out just what that special something was.  Soon the threatening clouds finally opened, so we scurried back to the The Workshops, stoked up the fire, and drank cups of tea while we prepared our gear for the following day.

We'd been in pretty serious learning mode all day, so we decided to unwind with a game of pool in the games room at The Workshops.  The games room was a fantastic space, with atmospheric lighting and a phenomenal collection of old instruments, music posters and more vintage artifacts.   Despite the fact Jer and I have been mates for years, we had never actually played a game of billiards together, so we filmed the momentous occasion.  It turns out we've never played a game of pool together for good reason - we are both diabolically useless at it.

Inside the games room at The Workshops.  Billiards, darts, and ancient cigarette machine on display - what more could anyone ask for on a rainy Clyde afternoon
 

At around 6:45pm the rain suddenly cleared and the sun started shining , so we stepped outside for another walk around the picturesque town, and ended up back at the Post Office Cafe for dinner and a beer.  Upon returning to The Workshops, Jer found an interesting book on dinosaurs and we spent ages chatting about it - and by chatting I mean I was in full science lecture mode, as my professional background is in natural history and zoology.  I was standing there flailing my arms around in the middle of an animated monologue about selection pressures as they relate to biological niche adaptation, when our host Steve stopped by for a chat and asked what we were up to.  I think he probably thought we were pretty weird when I told him we were having a biology discussion and drinking tea - I get the impression most people prefer to drink wine and eat cheese after a day touring around Central Otago!

Reflections on the river

Spending a day exploring Cylde, and a morning out on the water with Clutha River Cruises, had proven to be the perfect introduction to our rail trail experience.  We had not only learned about the history of the area, we had gotten to experience it - to walk amongst the ruins, touch the weathered stones, trudge along the old mining trails, smell the thyme and feel the elements.  Our enthusiastic hosts had painted us a vivid picture of the mining heritage that forged the area with all it's triumphs, brutality and tragedy, equipping us with a greater awareness and empathy for our upcoming destinations.  I felt like I now had a good foundation of knowledge to help me understand the things I'd see along the trail, and I'd tuned my eye to the subtleties of the Central Otago landscape.  

My Central Otago experience was already more rich and fulfilling than I had ever expected,  and I had yet to even see the start of the Otago Central Rail Trail.  Tomorrow we'd put our wheels to the trail for the first time - and I was keen to apply my new found knowledge, and experience the living history of Central Otago for myself.