Day 24:  Naseby to Kokonga

24 December 2010
32 km (19 miles) Mountain Biking

It’s Christmas Eve and all we want from Santa is a dry rainfly and a tailwind.

It was pouring rain when we rose this morning.  I think maybe I’ve written that before on this trip but there it is again.  We waited it out, as patiently as possible, in the campground kitchen, which paid off when we were offered a homemade biscuit (i.e., chocolate chip cookie) by a wee little child.  I had been thinking it was a little different that his parents were feeding him and his two sisters cookies and popcorn at 9:30 in the morning – perhaps a treat in honor of Christmas Eve? – but when they started sharing, I forgot all about my previous judgements and joined in the festivities.

Possibly worse than waiting out the pouring rain this morning was discovering that one of my biking shoes, carefully placed the evening before beneath the spacious vestibule, had somehow ended up directly in said vestibule’s drip line.  This is what I get for not waiting for Gina to organize the vestibule.  That never would have happened under her watch.

Ultimately the rain gave way to more gale force winds, allowing us to make our way down from the Naseby forests back to the open, Ranfurly valley, albeit quite carefully so as not to get blown off our bikes once more.  After four days of cycling in nearly continuous and always ferocious side winds, I think we are both starting to walk with a list, like an old boat with a slow leak on one side.  Not far past Ranfurly, however, our luck turned with the wind, as now it was hitting us on the cheeks that mattered most – not the ones we smile with but rather the ones we sit with.  Thank you, Santa, for that early Christmas present.

Tonight we are tucked into a guesthouse along the trail, in the community of Kokonga, which as far as we can tell consists of the super pricey lodge up the road and the more dated and affordable home we’re sleeping in tonight.  The wallpaper is older than Gina and I think the house dog may be as well.  Regardless, we are counting our blessings to be out of the wind and the tent, instead relaxing with hot water, pillows, laundry, and a bottle of wine.

Day 23:  Oturehua to Naseby

23 December 2010
40 km (25 miles) Mountain Biking

Tonight I write from my never-before-used Thermarest Chair.  I have been carting this darn thing around the world (well, at least on a bike trip or two) and have not once pulled it out of its mesh bag and assembled it.  Finally, here at the campground at Naseby where there is not a picnic table in sight, I have found the perfect moment to put it to work.  Now I wonder if there’s a newer model that comes with a footrest and cup holder?

Today we awoke to the sound of a text coming in on Gina’s phone.  It was our friendly Warmshower friends in Alexandra letting us know that today’s forecast called for more high winds and they hoped we got an early start.  We have now!  The thought of battling those side gales again had us up and stuffing bags and thermarests into sacks faster than Gina can eat an ice cream cone.  But mornings are made to linger and ultimately we did, chatting with the lovely owner of the Crow’s Nest, Annette, petting her feline friend Whisky-Pat, who is named such because of her look and because Annette loves whiskey, and having second breakfast of meat pies at the General Store.  The folks in this town of Oturehua were all so warm and friendly it was hard for us to tear ourselves away.

We originally thought we’d bike only as far as Ranfurly, our hands tired of gripping handlebars and bums tired of gripping bumpy seats.  But not far out of Oturehua we arrived at this welcome sign:

Well, Giddyup Horse!  Down the trail we went, coasting nearly the entire way to Ranfurly and finally finally finally feeling the wind on our backs.  It was a sweet ride down, made all the sweeter by the wee hamlet of Wedderburn.  While I took a short snack break, Gina took photos, clearly entranced by this little whistlestop and already plotting how we could maybe ride back on the Rail Trail to stay here for a night.  Um, maybe we should finish the trail before we decide to ride it all the way back again?

Ranfurly itself was a disappointment, lacking the super-cuteness of the previous small towns we’ve ridden through on this Spokanatchee Trail.  But in its favor is the presence of a Four Square, what one would consider a “real” grocery store around here.  We stocked up for our foray off the trail up to Naseby, noting that the store is closed on Christmas and Boxing Day.  Small problem: this holiday is starting to interfere with our ability to eat, seeing how we don’t have enough pannier space to carry four days worth of food.  At least not four days worth when Gina is one of the consumers.  But no matter, we’re getting quite good at changing our plans, so rest assured we won’t go hungry on Christmas.

The final stretch of 12 km of dirt road from Ranfurly to Naseby was tough, the winds having kicked up just as Kevin and Jenny had said they would.  Plus we had to keep stopping to pick up all the stuff that was falling off of Gina’s bike.  First was the loaf of bread (I meant it when I said there was no room left in the panniers), skidding on top of her back tire and dangling into her spokes.  Next was her left soccer sandal.  How that came off is still a bit of a mystery.  It was a good thing, though, that I was riding sweep, or she’d be limping around the campground tonight on one shoe.  I tell ya, we say we’re cycle tourists but if anyone had seen us dragging along that road leaving a trail of crumbs and shoes, they would have shaken their heads in wonder.

Day 22:  Omakau to Oturehua

22 December 2010
35 km (22 miles) Mountain Biking

This morning’s newspaper headline in the local Otago newspaper:  “Gales Leave Trail of Damage.”  Indeed.  We were lucky to not be counted amongst the blown-about debris.  (And see, I wasn’t exaggerating.)

Today’s ride began under calmer conditions that ultimately deteriorated into gusting winds, rain showers, and a final long straight stretch of trail that nearly did us in, but overall, another day to be grateful in the saddle and another day to wonder at the randomness of the universe and kindness of strangers.

Happy-go-lucky under this morning’s sunny skies, we toodled our way a full 5 km (to Ophir and back) before stopping for coffee at the Muddy Creek Cafe.  In tune with the Rough Guide’s appraisal, they did make a mighty fine Flat White.

Now fully fueled, we pedaled farther down the trail before the winds began again and the rain caught us from behind, at which point we decided to take shelter for a bit in the mouth of one of the old railway tunnels.  This began the part of our day where we changed our outfits as often as runway models.  Cold breeze coming through tunnel?  Biking jacket, rain jacket, rain pants and hat – on.  Still cloudy but rain passes and start pedaling again?  Biking jacket and hat – off.  Sun breaks coming through but still breezy?  Rain pants – off, biking jacket – on.  Rain returning but nearly to accommodations?  Not stopping again – whatever’s on stays on and whatever’s off stays off.

Arriving in Oturehua, we were in search of The Crow’s Nest, a backpacker/cabin/tenting accommodation.  As the town only has 23 full time residents, we figured we’d find the place without too much trouble and sure enough, even though it felt like we were walking through someone’s yard, we had arrived.  Here’s all Gina could say:  SUPER CUTE!, CAN YOU STAND IT?, DO YOU SEE HOW CUTE THIS IS?  I guess she liked the place.

There was a sign on the door telling us that the owners weren’t home but to please have a look and if we wanted to stay, to make ourselves at home and while we were at it, have a cup of hot tea.  Seriously, you mean the door is unlocked?  Yep.  We toured the accommodations and discussed our options and settled on – despite the continuing winds and rain – pitching the tent, our reasoning being that we could now take the money we would have spent on a padded bed and trade it for a bit more padding for our bellies, i.e., dinner out.  The only question then was where to pitch the tent?  There looked to be a little field but the winds were ripping through it like Gina through a bowl of mac’n’cheese, so probably not the prettiest option.  What to do?  Call Liz, whose number was posted on the door.  Turns out Liz owns the local tavern and was not only happy to help us figure out where to pitch the tent but offered up her tavern’s cozy sofas for us to enjoy after we got settled.  We’ll be right over, Liz.

Now arriving at a small town tavern around 5:30 pm is probably not the best idea if you ain’t from these parts.  That would be your “locals” hour, having just gotten off work.  And in a farming/ranching area such as this, your “locals” consist of about a dozen men, all curious as to who just walked in the door.  Why hello, boys.  Nothing like sneaking in unnoticed.

While gobbling through a burger too big for even Gina to devour solo, a couple came in who we’d seen before.  Yesterday, actually, while we were battling the winds out on the trail, we came across them parked alongside the road, where the gentleman jokingly said that he’d come to take us back to Alexandra (which at the time sounded like a really good idea).  They told us they had also seen us earlier today while they were (car) touring the area.  Super friendly Kiwis, before the evening was over they invited us to stay with them in Dunedin if we were in need of accommodation.  These Kiwis we’ve been meeting here in Spokanatchee are brilliantly welcoming and friendly.  We might need to hang out here a little longer.

Day 21:  Alexandra to Omakau

21 December 2010
27 km (17 miles) Mountain Biking

Today we officially began our Otago Rail Trail journey.  It was sketchy at first as to whether or not we’d get on the bikes, as we woke up to pouring rain.  Not the best forecast into which we wanted to ride, but our reputation as “cyclists” has been fading on this trip so time to get back on the bikes.

After waiting out the rain for a few hours, we packed up the panniers and van and met up with another Warmshowers family – Kevin and Jenny – who were gracious enough to allow us to leave Lucy in their care.

This was on top of a lovely lunch they served up at the last minute.  As Kevin is a winemaker [there is likely a better, more exacting name to describe what he does but whatever it is either (a) I can’t remember it or (b) I never knew it in the first place], this lovely lunch came with a tasty bottle of wine.  We assumed drink driving on the trail would not be an issue.  In fact, we probably should have just stayed and finished the bottle rather than head out on the trail at 3 pm in the afternoon.  It’s one thing to get a late start but entirely another to do so in gale force winds.  Now sometimes I may exaggerate a fact or two (although traveling with Gina means that extremes are more true to the tale than not) but I am not exaggerating the force of the blustery, gusty, ferocious and unrelenting winds that we battled for the next four hours.  Here in New Zealand they call them “Nor’westerlies.”  I have another name for them that I am too polite to publish.

Jenny had cautioned us that these Nor’westerlies would make the 30 km we were about to ride feel more like 60 km and she was spot on the money.  What I would normally characterize as a “No Rudder” ride turned into an endless, all-hands-on-deck skirmish between myself, my bicycle, and an unforgiving side wind that wanted nothing more than to see me flung off my bicycle like Raggedy Ann.  Pedal, blow right, brake, skid, swear, stop.  Pedal, blow right, brake, skid, swear, stop.  This was how the entire afternoon ticked away, with my right foot never once clipped into my pedal.  To do that would have been to risk an early end to our ride.  Gina, being a titch heavier in the saddle, thought this all a wee bit amusing for the first hour or so until the winds kicked up to such velocity that she, too, was nearly blown to the other side of the yellow brick road.

Outside of the winds, the scenery was quite lovely in this high, dry country.  Not that we saw a whole lot of it, most of our attention being focused on the three feet in front of our wheels, but we’ve taken a liking to this Spokanatchee.