Turning off the main road it wasn't long before I was doing the familiar thing of pushing my bike up towards a distant saddle. I didn't mind though as the higher I got the more spectacular the views were (especially back towards Wanaka), the weather was pleasant and I was feeling good. As I rolled over the top I started descending into one of the most worrying sections of the trip - the Roaring Meg valley of Matagouri and Spanyiard death. In the morning Anja had said we will get punctures here with a definitive finality. I had never had a puncture in a brevet yet and certainly didn't want one now.
I caught Rob by the hut as he had had chain issues. We rode together carefully around the spanyiards until the riding turned into walking which then turned into a struggle along a steep hillside. It was hard work dragging a loaded bike through this amongst the Matagouri bushes and rocks. I pitied the breveteers behind me with panniers - they were not going to like this!
Being on a single speed means I often rode alone as my speed is different to geared riders so it was great to do this section with Rob. Travelling with someone else means time goes quickly and before I knew it we were through Roaring Meg with no punctures thankfully and speeding down an excellent gravel descent to the Kawerau gorge. It was mostly downhill to Cromwell and as it flattened out I left Rob to text his wife expecting him to catch me further on - I never saw him again.
I rolled into Cromwell and had an early lunch, stocking up for what I knew would be a hard section ahead. A workmate had driven this next part over the Nevis range and looked shocked when I told him I would go up there on a bike (let alone a singlespeed). He said the climb was huge and very steep. Well I had done plenty of massive climbs already - it was just one more...wasn't it?
It started pleasantly enough with a ride around the lake edge before passing through Bannockburn. Further up the route turned off the tarsal and immediately started climbing. A head wind was picking up and progressively got stronger the higher I got. I rode some of the early part before succumbing to the slope and falling back on my familiar pushing 'low gear'. iPod time with Jesse Mae Hemphill and Junior Kimborough helped pass the time. The climb went on and on and on and the surroundings expanded to distant horizons.
The head wind was getting so strong it became a worry. I was getting sand blasted from the grit being blown straight into my face. It was also getting colder and forward progress was slow and tiring. I had little idea what was ahead except that it was a long long way to relative civilization in Garsten along what I imagined was a high, desolate, exposed route. The wind became demoralizing. I was starting to doubt I would get anywhere near Garsten tonight.
Brevets are full of big ups and downs especially when you are on your own. This climb was one of the big downs - doubts preyed, flourished and grew in my mind. It took close to two hours to get to the top but it didn't bring the normal relief and elation. I squinted into the ludicrous wind and saw black clouds and rain obscuring the far distance. A sign on the top claimed this was New Zealands highest public road at 1300 meters (no surprise there). It was followed by signs warning of impending danger, the possibility of extreme weather and death (at least thats how my current state of mind read it).
I paused a bit further down the other side of the saddle peering into the approaching storm wondering what to do. A 4WD came up towards me with two people inside. I stopped them to ask what the weather was like further up. Terrible they exclaimed. When I mentioned I was heading for Garsten they looked incredulous and strongly advised against me going on. I asked if there were any huts or shelters along the way. One of them said they only knew of a woodshed but wouldn't recommend sleeping there because of the fleas. They drove off towards Cromwell a tail wind downhill into the sun away. Horizontal rain started to hit my face.
I turned my bike around and pedaled back towards Cromwell - I had given up - it was all too hard. I rode on resigned to not finishing properly formulating excuses in my head to justify my failure to myself and the eventual scrutiny of others. I got to the top before the big descent back to Cromwell truly began. This was stupid - pull yourself together!! I turned around again to face the impending storm and once more pedaled off towards Garsten (the third time I would ride this section) - talk about pathetic and indecisive!
It was a decent descent down to the Nevis valley floor and about two thirds of the way down I got a real fright when a mountain biker caught me from behind. It was Trevor Woodward with Barryn not far behind both sounding very chipper and positive. They probably didn't realize what a relief it was for me to have company at this time. Riding alone can conjour up dark demons. I felt reinvigorated and the three of us powered off into the rain and dark clouds ahead all happy again.
Barryn and Trevor would stop for a snack and I would head of first being slower on my singlespeed. They would catch me further on, we would ride together for a while before they drifted off the front until this sequence was repeated all over again the next time they stopped for photos or food. It was great and even though the head wind was strong and the rain intermittent having company brightened my mood. The experience was also enhanced by the powerful, sublime quality of the scenery all round with its edges blurring into the far mist and wet cloud.
Eventually we started climbing at the far end of the valley and I watched Barryn and Trevor in their bright fluoro jackets disappear into the cloud ahead while I got off and walked. It had been a long day and I was hanging out for a huge meal at the Garsten pub.
Towards the top the cloud below cleared and I looked down into the next valley and highway far, far below. The ensuing downhill was one of the best of the brevet - fast sweeping corners, not too bumpy for my rigid bike with spectacular views. I was now so happy I had not given up. Sadly the downhill came to an end and I stopped for a photo.
I headed off to the pub. Rolling up to the door I read the sign - Closed on Mondays (yes it was of course Monday) - unbelievable! It was just after 7.00pm and I had left Cromwell at 11.30am - I needed food, beer and a cosy warm pub interior. There was nothing for it but to keep going.
The next part Dave had noted as the one boring part of the GSB. It was essentially a connecting road between the Nevis range and the Old Man range. Flat, long, tarseal roads are not much fun on a 45 gear inch singlespeed but I just spun on. I passed through Athol but everything was closed so on I went. After over two hours of lonely tedium I rode into Lumsden as the light started to dim. It all looked closed and deserted and then I heard someone call out my name....huh? I couldn't see anyone. I heard my name called out again and this time I looked up to see Tristan waving from the first floor window of the Lumsden pub shouting out that they had rooms available.
It looked closed from the outside but walking in I found a very friendly host welcoming me in. I ordered a meal, settled into an upstairs room, chatted with Tristan (who had turned up 2 hours earlier with Anja), had a shower, checked the progress of other breveteers on my iPhone, had a few beers and chatted with the locals. What a great end to a dramatic 16 hour day in the saddle! It was experiences like this that make brevets unique and memorable.
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