A different kind of Glorious

I must admit I have been doing very little in the way of cycling since returning from riding in New Zealand last November.  I've led a charity ride, ridden the northern section of the Brisbane Valley Rail Trail once, and gone on a few little rides around town, and that's about it - the combination of heat, stormy weather, traffic and injury has meant my touring bike has spent most of the summer gathering dust.

A few weeks ago I got a request to write and photograph a ride guide for a cycling magazine, so I made the snap decision to ride up to Mt Glorious, via South Boundary Road.  South Boundary Road is a disused logging track running through the D'Aguilar National Park, pretty much right on the doorstep of the Brisbane CBD, and only a short distance from my house.  I used to ride there all the time when I did a lot of mountain biking, and figured the higher slopes of Mt Glorious would be the perfect place to escape the summer heat for a day.  I'd also been spending a lot of time looking at the inspirational Bike Overnights website, so I figured it would be the perfect opportunity to do a little bit of bush camping up in the cool evening air of the mountain and see what this overnight tour thing is all about.

Given that I was only going away overnight, I didn't put in a huge amount of preparation.  On the morning we were due to leave, I wandered around the house throwing random items of food in my panniers, grabbed my hammock and headed out into the midday Brisbane traffic.  My companion for the trip was my riding friend Rudi, who has joined me for a number of other adventures over the years.  Riding through the insane traffic of Brisbane was bizarre on a loaded touring bike - as I left my house I didn't feel like I was having any kind of getaway at all, it felt more like the world's most hot and difficult trip to the shops.  Fortunately after about 15 minutes we were out of the worst of the traffic, and on the quiet bike paths leading through the suburbs to the start of South Boundary Road.

We looked fairly odd riding touring bikes with panniers and tents past families walking their dogs and playing cricket in local parks

A number of the bike paths in Brisbane have been totally re-modelled since the floods of January 2011.  This nifty little switchback was an unexpected delight

Switch to adventure mode

After a short ride through the suburbs, we arrived at the edge of D'Aguilar National Park, the start of South Boundary Road.  I generally have a lot of trouble getting into "touring mode" at the best of times, and knowing I would only be away from the house for 24 hours wasn't helping.  However, as soon as we hauled our bikes over the stile at the park entrance, we immediately entered another world.  Although we were only about 10 minutes drive from the centre of the city, it was as though Brisbane had just disappeared.  All we could see was scrub in every direction, and the only sound was wind and birds.

Rudi switches out of Brisbane traffic warfare survival mode, and into adventure touring mode

The start of South Boundary Road overlooks Enoggera Dam.  The day was getting very hot by now - it was good to know we'd be riding into the cool of the afternoon

As soon as we crossed the stile, the road went upwards, and upwards, and upwards.  I hadn't ridden this route for a few years, and it was now very much all coming back to me.  On a mountain bike parts of the climb are tough - on a touring bike this had the potential to be a long day

Rudi gives it a good go on the first climb.  One of the advantages of being the photographer on a trip is that whenever it gets hard, you can stop on the grounds that "this would make a great photo".  Another advantage is being able to whine about the extra weight of the gear

Quote of the day from Rudi: "not only is it an expensive walking stick, it's also fucking heavy!" I must admit, I was finding it tough going in the early part of the ride, and was also walking my bike up the steeper climbs.  Most of the ride is constantly up and down as the road gradually makes its way to the summit of Mt Nebo

After a little while I managed to get into the rhythm of the road.  It basically goes up a steep climb, across the top of the ridge, down a descent to a saddle, then up another steep climb to the next ridge - again and again and again

Rudi hammers through one of the saddles and begins the next climb.  The trail surface is firm and compacted, and mountain bikes at high speed have worn a very clean line all the way up the mountain

Soon we left behind the rocky lower slopes and moved into more lush scrub a little further up the mountain.  With the temperature a little cooler, I was beginning to get my climbing legs back and was spending a lot less time walking the bike

Through the scrub we could see glimpses of the landscape below.  At one point on the climb we emerged into a clearing under some power lines, and could see almost all the way to the NSW border.  We'd already climbed a long way

Rudi rides past the water tank on South Boundary Rd, near the spot where the track makes a sharp turn to the left that a lot of riders miss.  Rudi 

A few hundred metres after the water tank, the landscape suddenly changed from dry open scrub to hot rainforest.  I remembered that just uphill from the tank awaited the two most brutal climbs of the ride, steep and long ascents up rocky inclines.  We arrived at the first climb together, and immediately dismounted and started walking our bikes the 1km or so to the top.  Even on foot I was leaving Rudi behind, and waited around for him at the crest.  As I waited, I saw him walking around the corner, and shouted at him to ride his bike for a bit so I could get some photos.  He valiantly climbed on his bike, and to my surprise started charging up the hill towards me at a fair pace.

Rudi was looking so good in the climb, I was beginning to think he was faking his earlier weakness.  Then suddenly about 20m from the top, he got the wobbles.  Looks like he's going down...

...not quite.  He managed to stop, screaming in pain with leg cramps

Being such a caring friend, I didn't stop shooting as he stood their attempting to stretch out his legs.  I could see his quadriceps going into spasm from where I was standing

Rudi had been saying for the last half an hour or so that he wanted to stop for a break, and I had been trying get him to keep going, giving it the whole "we'll stop at the top of the next hill" routine.  Now it did seem time for a break, we rested the bikes on the embankment on the side of the road and had a drink and some food.  My general rule for trail stops is a maximum of five minutes - any longer than that and my legs cool off too much and I have trouble getting moving again.  As my trip computer switched itself off I knew it was time to get moving again, and told Rudi I'd meet him at Scrub Rd bush hut, a small camping hut about 6km up the road at a junction.  He seemed to be feeling better, so I shot off through the forest towards the hut.

As I got closer to the hut and closer to the summit, the large climbs abated and the track flowed along the ridgelines

The mountain landscape changed continuously.  Halfway up a gentle climb, the soil suddenly changed from light brown to red, and the grass and trees looked a lot greener

The welcome sight of the Scrub Road bush hut.  I was relieved to get there as I had run out of water on the hot climb

It all goes a bit wrong

I arrived at the Scrub Road bush hut at about 3:00pm.  Our destination for the day was another bush hut further up the road, in the saddle between Mt Nebo and Mt Glorious.  The plan was to spend the night up there, then in the morning it would be a matter of a reasonably easy ride back into the Samford Valley and home, and I'd be able to make good use of the last hours of today and the first hours of the morning to stage some riding photos around the summit.  I estimated we still had about 20km to ride to get to the other bush hut, and about three hours of daylight left.  I sat in the shade of the hut and sterilised some water from the tank.  Rudi had never been further than this hut before, and had no means of treating water and probably no map, so I decided to wait for him.

Scrub Road bush hut, one of many bush camping spots on Mt Nebo and Mt Glorious

Sterilising tankwater while I waited - the steripen is a lot quicker and easier than boiling, which was handy as I figured Rudi would only be a few minutes away

Since my last ride through D'Aguilar National Park a couple of years ago, sign posts have been placed at every junction making navigation a lot easier.  I got the big camera out and walked to the junction hoping to snap some sort of depth-of-field shot of Rudi as he rode around the bend.  After about 30 minutes of waiting around, he never showed up, so I wandered back to the hut.  This wasn't the first time I've had to wait a while for Rudi, so at this point I wasn't too concerned

The view from inside the bush hut - turns out this was my view for quite some time.  As the sun got lower, I became progressively more concerned about getting to the campsite on Mt Glorious before nightfall.  After an hour of waiting I became concerned about what had happened to Rudi in the 6km since I last saw him, and started rolling back down the hill

I found him a little way down the road, squatting next to his bike trying to ease his leg cramps

At this point it was pretty clear that Rudi wasn't going to be going much further that day.  He was the unhappiest I've ever seen him on a bike, and was covered in dirt from rolling around on the ground trying to work his cramps out.  He'd covered six kilometres in about 1.5 hours.  He bravely tried to soldier on past the bush hut, but within a few hundred metres it became clear he wasn't going to be able to make it to our planned destination on Mt Glorious, so we rolled back down to the Scrub Road bush hut to set up camp for the night.

Before getting too carried away at setting up our camp, we sat in the hut with our shoes off and took a few minutes to relax.  As we were sitting there, a group of four mountain bike riders arrived at the hut - and announced they were planning on camping there the night.  They were really nice guys, but this was a bit much for me to handle.  The day hadn't gone my way - I was already a bit disappointed about only getting 28km from my front door and not making it into the high rainforest to camp, and now the prospect of not finding the solitude I was expecting was making me feel anxious and somewhat claustrophobic.  The riders mentioned they didn't have tents and were hoping to sleep in the shelter, so Rudi and I volunteered to set up a camp a little way up the road so both parties could each enjoy the solitude of the bush.  As the we set up camp and cooked dinner in the setting sun, my earlier disappointment quickly faded away.

After the initial disappointment of not getting as far as I'd like and having unexpected company, securing a ridgetop camping spot started to turn things around

Camp Velo Cetera - the new ultralight setup

Tonight was the first night I tried out my new Hennessy Hammock

I was intrigued to learn that while Rudi doesn't carry a map or cooking gear, he can't leave home without a clothes line and pegs

Relaxing in the late afternoon sun, drinking cans of hot lemonade.  Our food choices for an overnight tour were amazing - basically lemonade, chips and lollies

Sunset in the scrub on Mt Nebo.  After the tribulations of the afternoon, I was looking forward to crawling into the hammock for a sleep.  I had also forgotten to bring any kind of torch, so an enforced early night was on the cards

Best sleep ever

After quickly scoffing my dinner in the rapidly fading light, I climbed into my new Hennessy Hammock for the first time.  Apparently you're either a hammock person or you're not - and upon climbing in and lying down, it became very clear that I am indeed a hammock person.  This hammock is a clever rethink of a basic concept, and provided an amazingly stable and comfortable platform for me to spend the night.  It was something of a novelty to be out camping in the bush, yet in total comfort with no rocks or hard floor to contend with.  The mesh covered inner of the hammock was tall enough for me to sit up in, and I spent a long time just looking out into the silent bush around.  The hammock also features two side lines which pull the main platform of the hammock out into a rough diamond shape, giving me a lot more room to lie on my back, my side or even my front.  One unexpected advantage was that every time I moved position, the hammock would very gently sway - an entirely pleasant and relaxing sensation.  Whenever I'm camping I usually wake up numerous times in the night thinking how uncomfortable I am, and spend ages trying to find a comfortable position to lie in - with the hammock I did wake up a couple of times, and I remember just thinking "this is so comfortable" and happily drifting straight back to sleep.  It was probably the best night sleep I've had anywhere for the past few years - maybe even better than my own bed.

Early the next morning in camp.  I spent a total of ten hours straight in the hammock that night, and was a little unhappy when I finally had to get up.  The Hennessy Hammock has definitely earned a place in my bike camping manifest

Packing up the hammock was another revelation.  Rudi was struggling with his tent and getting covered in dirt scrambling around on the ground - I just pulled the two sleeves down over the hammock, undid the rope, coiled it up and stuffed it in my pannier.  The whole process took less than 30 seconds and the hammock never touched the ground.  Breaking camp is my least favourite part of camping, and now it was all but eliminated.  As you can probably guess by now - I reckon this hammock is the best piece of touring equipment I own

More of the same

The first order of business for the day was to continue up South Boundary Road to the top of Mt Nebo.  The weather was humid and hot, even in the early hours of the morning, and it was with some relief we eventually hit the cooler rainforest on the higher slopes.

Rudi rides into the cool leafy rainforest.  He seemed to be feeling a lot better this morning

With the larger climbs behind us, we made good time towards the end of South Boundary Road

The western end of South Boundary Road, where the dirt meets the main sealed road between Brisbane and Mt Glorious

Before  we rejoined the sealed road for the remainder of our ride, I stopped to pump a little more air into my rear tyre.  Rudi was standing next me, and once I put my pump away I started turning my bike around to head onto the main road.  Rudi decided to slowly ride, and almost as soon as he got his feet clipped into the pedals, he hit a rock in the road which instantly halted his forward momentum.  He fell over into me, knocking my bike out of my hands, although I managed to remain on my feet during the whole thing while I was surrounded by a tangled mess of bikes, panniers and Rudi.   Naturally, my most immediate concern was getting to my bike in time to get my camera out and get a photo of Rudi swearing and flailing around on his back like an upturned turtle.  Alas, I wasn't quite quick enough - I must start carrying my camera in my pocket.

Rudi quickly rights his bike and tries to regain his composure to avoid any photographic evidence of his mishap

Although the dirt section of the ride was behind us, we still had to make the challenging climb up the tarmac from Mt Nebo to the summit of Mt Glorious before we could descend back into the Samford Valley.  By now I was very much in touring mode, carefully metering out my energy as I steadily climbed up through the humid air of the dense rainforest.  Mt Glorious is a popular destination for Brisbane cyclists, and all the time I was getting passed by an assortment of lean and fast riders.  A few of them mentioned that it must be a tough climb on a loaded touring bike, and one guy even threw out a touring bike related heckle "are you moving house or something?" - well played!

Rolling through the rainforest on the way to Mt Glorious

It was still early in the day, but I could almost see the crushing humidity

Rudi on the move through the rainforest

After a promising start, by the time we reached the top of Mt Glorious, Rudi was exhausted again.  He sat unhappily by the roadside eating the rest of his food before the descent down the mountain and across the valley floor to Samford

The top of the brake-searing descent down Mt Glorious to Samford.  The road reaches gradients of 15% for a few kilometres, through a series of tight and blind switchbacks.  Not for the faint hearted, and a little terrifying on a loaded touring bike

Rudi at roadworks on the descent.  The red light certainly broke the rhytym of the ride

Before too long our mountain adventure was suddenly over, and we rode through the lifestyle residential blocks across the valley to the village of Samford, on the outskirts of Brisbane

By 9:00am we were back in Samford, only about 15km from my house.  The weekend's riding had taken its toll on Rudi - shortly after I headed off to my house, he phoned his wife and got a lift home.

 Bike overnighters are awesome

My little weekend getaway had not exactly gone as I had planned - we didn't make it to our destination, everything took a lot longer than I expected, I hadn't explored anywhere I hadn't been before, and I only just barely had enough photos to submit to the magazine.  Despite all the hassles, I had one of the best and most adventurous weekends I have had for a very long time, literally within a couple of hours of my front door.  D'Aguilar National Park is an amazing place - it's quite remarkable that such a huge park exists so close to a major city.  The fact that it's completely closed to vehicular traffic gives it a really remote feel that it seems only a few intrepid cyclists and hikers take full advantage of.

The concept of the bike overnighter is a stunningly simple one that I have long understood, but for some reason I'd never done, instead choosing to focus only on long and elaborate tours or just day rides.  Turns out I've been missing out on the simple pleasure of just getting on a bike, riding somewhere, sleeping under the stars, then riding home again.  In only 22 hours and 80km, I'd managed to recreate the same feeling of achievement and adventure that I had returning from three weeks of touring overseas.  Bike overnighters are certainly a cheap and easy way to capture the vibe of adventure cycling - whether you're a seasoned cross country camper or a novice tourer, there's sure to be an exciting overnighter destination somewhere near you.  It's just a matter of getting out there to find it...

Riding to the end of the line: NZ Day 17

Today was our final day on the Otago Central Rail Trail, and it looked as though the area would finally live up to its reputation as "the driest part of New Zealand".  Maybe not exactly - it was overcast when we woke up, but at least it wasn't raining.  After a few days of being pretty relaxed on the trail, our preparations today were a little more serious, as we had a lot to do and a lot of ground to cover to arrive in Dunedin that evening.  After loading our bikes and gear, we shared breakfast with our host Gary at Maniototo Lodge B&B, and enjoyed a few cups of tea while we stood around chatting.  The weather station showed the outside temperature was a chilly 4 degrees celcius, and from the house we could already see a couple of brave souls riding along the trail.  I was reluctant to leave Maniototo Lodge and Ranfurly - I very much enjoyed my time and the company of Gary and Chris, and as we set off I resolved to come back and spend some more time on the Maniototo Plain.

It turned out that 4 degrees in real life feels a lot colder than 4 degrees on a weather station in the comfort of the Maniototo Lodge lounge room.  It was the coldest I'd been on the entire tour

Despite all the rain of the past couple of days, the trail surface was still firm and reasonably dry, with only the odd large puddle here and there

A little way south of Ranfurly we came across a flock of sheep on the trail, being herded over to the other side of the paddock by a farmer and a single energetic sheepdog.  After waiting patiently at a distance, we continued on past the flock, now safely behind a fence

We pushed on under foreboding skies, across an old steel girder bridge.  From memory this was the only one if its type on the trail

Break in the weather

We continued south, across more impossibly green pastoral land.  I was in a pretty strange frame of mind as we rode this section - I wasn't as ecstatic as I had been the past few days, and  was feeling kind of flat.  I think it was a combination of knowing our adventure was coming to an end today, and the gloomy weather that was hanging heavily over our heads, making it a little difficult for me to draw too much energy from my surroundings.  It was a Sunday morning, and we were noticing a few unladen mountain bikers on the trail - I assume locals out for a day ride.  After a while we caught up to a couple of riders, and rather than overtaking them, we decided to stop by the trail side and have a break for a few minutes.

For whatever reason, I was feeling a little gloomy in the gloomy weather.  The suddenly, we spied a patch of blue sky up ahead and our spirits lifted

Jer takes a break by the trail.  We hadn't ridden very far and weren't terribly hungry, but both needed a break.  We were both feeling a bit off, so taking a bit of time out to get centered was a smart move

We continued on the empty trail, rounded a bend, crossed a road, and suddenly entered a different world.  The sun came out, and the landscape exploded with yellow flowers.  We left the Manitoto Plain, and headed downhill through a long and rocky valley, once again through deep cuttings and over grand old bridges standing dozens of metres above the streams below.  We once again caught up to the couple out riding their mountain bikes - upon getting close to them it was apparent they were pretty serious about cycling.  I rode along with them for a while, and they told me they were from Middlemarch, out for a morning ride.  By my estimation that was about an 80km round trip for them, and they had nothing with them but bikes and bidons.

That orange dot down there is Jer shooting off down the sunlit valley.  I was blown away by this sudden change of landscape and weather, and had to stop and get off the bike and get some photos, and just soak it up.  Only about two minutes after I confidently accelerated away from the mountain bikers, they smilingly overtook me again

Looking back up the valley, this section of rail trail from Daisybank to Hyde is very much downhill

The Red Dwarf ganger's shed overlooking the Taieri River.  Yes, it really is called Red Dwarf

Jer makes his way through a deep cutting.  Something about this section was very different to the previous few days of riding on the trail - the Otago Central Rail Trail feels like a ride of two halves, and Ranfurly seems to be the point where the vibe changes

Crossing the Cap Burn bridge, where a little of the original rail line remains.  After days of having a big wide trail to ride on, we were a pair of wobbling dunces as we unsteadily made our way across the narrow bridge.  What made it even more embarrassing was that two old ladies out riding that watched us wobble over before they crossed the bridge straight and true

The landscape and trail seemed a little softer as we headed towards Middlemarch

Jer makes his way across Price's Creek viaduct.  It's funny how riding between two fences made us wobble like crazy, and the barriers aren't even that close

Covered in green grass and yellow flowers, the rocky ranges of Central Otago looked positively gentle

Jer contemplates when he'll be able to get another cup of coffee

The only tunnel of the day, carved through the rolling green hills

The brickwork in the Price's Creek tunnel was somewhat different to the tunnels we had ridden through near Lauder

Even though I was fresh from a rest day, and the riding was literally all downhill, I was starting to feel very tired as we neared the town of Hyde

Nowhere to Hyde

We hadn't seen any houses or towns for quite a while, and I was hungrily beginning to wonder if the township of Hyde was ever going to appear.  Suddenly the trail rounded a bend and headed into a little valley, where we crossed a curving rail bridge that landed us at the front door of the Otago Central Hotel.  The hotel was packed, which was surprising for a Sunday morning, although I will admit the crowd was comprised entirely of cyclists.  We sat there overlooking the trail eating sandwiches and drinking coffee, our energy levels once again rose, and we soon set off towards our final destination on the trail - the town of Middlemarch.

The couple we had ridden with earlier were also taking a break at the hotel coffee shop.  To my surprise, the gentleman was having a few cigarettes, yet he could clearly ride like greased lightning

Another day, another one of these wooden guys.  There must be hundreds of thousands of them around the South Island of New Zealand - at least this one has a good view overlooking the curved rail bridge at Hyde

Hyde railway station.  I kept on riding and Jer popped over for a look, only to discover the station is privately owned.  Apparently it's for sale - that would be a pretty sweet place to live!

Someone at Ranfurly is probably still waiting for their shipment of planks to arrive...

Rail fail

I was standing around on the trail taking photos of the old carriages, when Jer joined me and laughingly mentioned he'd stacked his bike.  Apparently he was riding through long grass and didn't realise he was riding in a remaining piece of railway line - when he turned the bike his front wheel rubbed up against the rail track and over he went.  As he was standing there picking grass and dirt out of his panniers and handlebars he pointed to the couple on the mountain bikes now riding past the station, and said "Lucky the didn't see me, that would have been embarrassing!"

Here the rail trail runs just adjacent to the original railway line, where Jer came unstuck

Check out that sweet abutment.  I stopped to read an information panel, and Jer kept riding, presumably to work out some of his soreness from falling off his bike

Jer was long gone, and I was standing around admiring the old bridge and reading the information panel, when the couple on the mountain bikes we'd been leapfrogging all day turned up and we had a chat

As the mountain bikers were having a drink and checking out the ganger's shed, I asked them if they'd seen Jer stack it.  They said they hadn't, and I explained the whole incident to them, adding "if you see him up the road, be sure to give him a bit of shit about falling over".  They enthusiastically agreed to this, and shot off down the gravel trail.

It turns out my ruse worked better than I could have imagined.  When I caught up to Jer, he said "those people saw me stack it.  When they rode up they asked if I had any road rash from crashing, and were cracking up laughing about it."  As he retold the story I nodded sympathetically, secretly impressed that these people had taken the ruse to the next level by not only teasing him for crashing, but also pretending they were eyewitnesses to the embarrassing incident.  It kept getting better - when we eventually caught up to them again, Jer refused to overtake, saying "can't do it man, it's too embarrassing after they saw my stupid crash".  When they stopped for a break at a scenic lookout and I wanted to stop at the same place, Jer said "nope.  What if they say something about my crash again?"  It was majestic - his confidence was totally shot and he was embarrassed and paranoid, and I obviously milked it for all it was worth.  What's even more awesome is that I have never told him that nobody had even witnessed his crash, and the whole thing was a wind up involving complete strangers on the trail.  The first he'll know about it is when he reads this.  Delicious.

Soon after leaving Hyde, the trail led out onto another agricultural plain.  The sun was blazing and a hot wind was starting to blow

The sun was scorching, and I wanted to stop at a monument to the Hyde railway disaster to have a drink and re-apply sunscreen.  As we were pulling up, Jer saw the mountain bikers he thought had seen him crash, and refused to stop there out of sheer embarrassment.  We ended up stopping in the relative privacy of the last cutting of the trail, before quickly moving on

The weather really came good on the final straight to the end of the trail at Middlemarch

It was only about 1km from the end of our ride that I realised I could use this camera angle from the bike - I wish I'd thought of it sooner

Making the final push across the plain into Middlemarch, towards lunch and coffee.  The weather was now the complete opposite of when we left cold and damp Ranfurly, just a few hours earlier

The end of the Otago Central Rail Trail and the town of Middlemarch in sight

 End of the line

We arrived at the railhead in Middlemarch a little before lunch.  Rolling into Middlemarch felt like a momentous occasion after leaving Christchurch by bike all those weeks earlier - I kind of expected some kind of welcoming committee to commemorate our achievement, but the entire town seemed strangely deserted.  There is nothing too remarkable at the end of the line, just a gate and an old rail service car, but we still felt compelled to sit around and take a quiet moment to celebrate our achievement.  I had dreamed of riding the rail trail for so long that now it was over, I didn't really know what to say or do.  The midday Otago sun was ferociously blazing down, so we quickly attended to whatever personal rituals and reflections we thought we had to make, and headed off in search of shelter.

My trusty Redline Conquest Classic carried me straight and true through yet another off road adventure.  I really don't talk enough about how much I love this bike, maybe one day it will be subject of a review

As we stood around aimlessly, an older guy walked over to us and offered to take our photo at the end of the trail.  As per usual we did a great job of not looking relaxed

I don't know how many countless thousands of lycra-clad cyclist bums have posed for a "hilarious" photo on this thing in the past, but I certainly wasn't going to let the chance go by to have my turn!

Jer takes of advantage of the state-of-the-art aerodynamic fairing on WW7617

With the Otago Central Rail Trail completed, only a short bit of riding remained on our tour of the South Island.  I had initially intended to ride straight to Dunedin, but my friend Ross had suggested we instead catch the Taieri Gorge Railway into Dunedin.  This sounded like a good idea to me, as the ride from Middlemarch to Dunedin is apparently contains some serious climbs, and some diabolical traffic at the end.  The tourist train departs from Middlemarch, although we were scheduled to catch the afternoon service from Pukerangi, about 20km away.  We had some time to kill, so we rolled into the centre of Middlemarch with a view to doing as little as possible for a few hours.

We pulled up out the front of Cycle Surgery, a business renting out bikes, running tours and catering to riders using the trail.  A couple of staff saw us standing around looking vague, and asked us how we were doing and how far we'd ridden.  I explained what we'd been up to for the past couple of weeks, and they guy said "looks like you've got the right bikes for it!"  This was this first time in the whole time I've owned a cyclocross bike that anyone had even known what it was, let alone what it was good for - complimenting someone on their choice of bike is always a good way to start off on the right foot.  I asked how long it would take to get to Pukerangi station to catch the afternoon train, and he recommended giving it about an hour and a half.  He suggested that in the meantime we chill out, wash our bikes and relax, adding "just make yourself at home guys".  I was impressed - we'd only just rocked up out of the blue that minute, and were generously being offered full use of the facilities.  We hung around for a couple of hours - I phoned home, ate some lunch, and had a few coffees before we reluctantly pressed our tired legs into action for the final ride through Central Otago to Pukerangi station.

Cycle Surgery at Middlemarch - a hospitable finish to our rail trail experience

Jer has a chocolate milk and chills it up while listening to Solid Gold FM.  Every radio station in South Island seems to be locked to this station, ensuring we had a constant soundtrack of Elton John, Billy Joel and Paul McCartney

The combination of hot sun, strong wind and tired legs made the ride out of Middlemarch much tougher than we anticipated.  It seemed fitting that it was ending as it began, with us slogging it out in a savage headwind across flat farmland

We were running well ahead of schedule to meet the train as we turned onto an empty dirt road leading to the station

The road continued along the side of the rail line, rolling along through increasingly rocky farmland.  I assumed it continued mostly flat by the trail line all the way to the station

This was something novel - the railway line and road converge to share the same single lane bridge

The final sting in the tail on the road to Pukerangi.  It doesn't look like much in the photo, but this hill is colossal

We pulled up at the bottom and the climb and I was about to launch into a whining procrastination session before the climb, when all of a sudden Jer took off like a shot up the hill - I think he too was keen to have it over with

Arriving at Pukerangi.  It's literally just a train station out on the middle of nowhere, and we were the only people around for miles

Riding this section of the rail trail to Dunedin is definitely not advisable

We arrived about an hour before the train was due, and were the only people around.  We quietly milled around, individually reflecting on our ride across Central Otago, and indeed across the South Island.  Although we had ridden together much of the way and done mostly the same things over the past few weeks, I think we individually had very different experiences.  For me, arriving at the end of the line bought on some strange emotions - I was neither happy nor sad, not melancholy nor delighted.  My reflections at the completion of my journey on the rail trail and through South Island were not really about anything to do with cycling.  At the age of 30 I was diagnosed with an incurable degenerative disease, and was unsure if I'd even be able to walk, let alone ride a bike through New Zealand - for me, being at Pukerangi station represented not just the end of a long ride, but the end of a long chapter in a personal journey to wrest my life back from the bleak malaise of pain and disease.  The triumphs and tribulations of the past weeks, along with the singularity of life on a bike, had pushed my condition from the front of my mind to the back.  Although this particular adventure was ending, I felt it was just the start of many more to come.

This is my favourite photo from the trip - when I look at it I get instantly transported back to the reflections I had at that place

Our day on the bike had ended up a lot tougher than we had anticipated, and it was welcome relief to sit on the train, watching the scenery roll past with no effort on our behalf

The Taieri Gorge Railway is apparently rated as one of the great train trips of the world.  I can see why - it's breathtakingly scenic, and the the train even stops at a few spots along the way so passengers can hop out and take photos

Two tired guys on a train.  It was worth every cent just to not be riding our bikes through the suburbs of Dunedin - the scenic vistas all the way were just a bonus

Back in the big city

Arriving at Dunedin station

We unloaded our bikes and rode through the deserted Sunday afternoon street of Dunedin.  After being in the relative wilderness of Central Otago for a week, it felt odd to be back in a city - although the fact there was nobody around helped to ease our transition back into civilisation.  We pedalled to our nearby backpackers accommodation, where thanks to a mix up in bookings, we'd been booked a whole dorm room for just the two of us.  We headed upstairs and let our panniers explode everywhere, and sat around saying nothing for quite a while.  With great effort we wearily dragged ourselves back out to the bikes, and rode down to the local car wash, using the high pressure hoses to blast the Otago dirt out of the bikes.  The ride down to the car wash represented the last time we'd ride in New Zealand, and we both nominated to push our bikes back up to the accommodation.

We went for a short stroll around Dunedin, grabbed a feed at a fast food place, then retired to our rooms where we just lay around looking at photos and listening to the sounds of Solid Gold FM floating in through a window from somewhere.  It had been a long and exhausting few weeks, but we had worked together and had now successfully reached our destination.  I quickly drifted off into a night of deep sleep, to the sounds of Uncle Albert by Paul McCartney - which for some strange reason, seemed the perfect soundtrack to mark the completion of our journey by bicycle across the South Island of New Zealand.