Up and over the Pass

We went off the grid for a few days. When you trace the road from Franz Josef Glacier to Haast on the west coast of NZ’s South Island on Google maps, you notice that there are no towns, no tourist attractions, no landmarks. There’s nothing out there. Just me, my bike, a bunch of sheep, and the land and the sea. It is stunningly beautiful.

It was strange, and a little unsettling, to wake up in a place that had no cellular service, no WiFi, and nothing to do. Lake Moeraki Wilderness Lodge is a place in the middle of nowhere, yet still with all the creature comforts of excellent wine and crackling fireplaces.

The nearest electric lines are 20km away in Haast, so the lodge generates its own power from a hydroelectric generator on the Lake. There are towering Rimu trees, and penguins (in season, we didn’t see any sadly), and fur seals, and glow worms, and giant eels, and sand flies.

These eels are all females (the males are smaller), grow only 1-2cm a year, and breed only once at the end of their lives. The one I am petting is probably 100 years old! Won has sworn off unagi from now on.

Boredom. The cry of a bell bird. Quiet. At night, you can feel the weight of darkness. For 2 days, we hiked, and we slept, and I read a coffee table book about birds from cover to cover. And I marveled at how little time our modern lives give us to think.

Yesterday was our biggest ride yet, up and over Haast Pass and back to civilization. It was stunning in part because the landscape starts with moisture-laden rainforest, where the clouds sit on the canopies and the rain dripping off your helmet mimics the waterfalls crashing down the mountainside. The giant fern archways and echoing bird calls suggest a dinosaur might perhaps amble around the corner. As we climbed, the weather became the alpine winter of the mountain pass, where breath hangs like vapor in the air. Then on the descent, the landscape drops rapidly to rolling brown-colored hills and braided river beds, where each gust of wind makes you wonder if you might be blown over the cliff and into the bright turqoise waves of the lake below. And finally to sunny and dry wine country, under a baking sun and rustling breeze. This was all in 5 hours and about 70 miles. On a bike going an average of 12km/hr, the drastic change in land and weather was incredible.

I threw in the proverbial towel at the bottom of Haast Pass and caught a lift in the support van up and over the mountain, as Won pedaled his way up into the clouds. Still, I logged 50 miles of cycling and about 2900 ft in elevation gain from the “rolling” hills. My quads and gluts feel like jelly, and I have a new appreciation for the “granny gear” (the lowest gear on the bike that allows you to get up an incline, if you pedal steadfastly). I may or may not have flipped off a big tour bus filled with tourists that passed so close I could feel the bus graze my shoulder as it whizzed by at 100km/hr. I wonder how many pictures I am in with my middle finger raised high in the air. Nonetheless, we made it.

We are in Wanaka, NZ, where a celebratory meal last night of Pinot Noir and roasted lamb shoulder was just glorious.

I am grateful for the rain today. It means a restful day of no activity, some hot tubbing, and perhaps more wine sampling.

March 20, 2018