Furthest from home

The junction of the Wakefield-Kohatu Highway and Wai-iti Valley Road; a road I’ve never cycled on. One more pedal stroke and I’m into uncharted territory, the first of many. A year ago I came up with the idea of doing the Tuatara 1000 bike route in Southland for my 30th birthday. I then decided to up the stakes and cycle to the start in Gore. It would be my longest bikepacking trip and longest solo trip to date, traversing a variety of terrain from highway to high country stations and mountain passes. The trip that transpired over the course of a month became, as these things often do, more about the journey than the destination.

Spending time outside of my comfort zone is something I do on a daily basis. Despite growing up on the rural West Coast of Scotland and spending a lot of time outside it wasn’t until my mid 20’s that I really started getting into the outdoors in a big way. Teaching myself how to bikepack using YouTube, sites like Bikepacking.com and much trial and error. For those who might not have come across this term it is essentially light weight bike touring and is generally done on a gravel or mountain bike.

My first bikepacking and bike touring attempts were in dribs and drabs and some were outright failures. My friends, who I’ve introduced to the past-time, say I know so much but really I’ve just had more time to make more mistakes. And hopefully learn from them. So after much planning, preparing and waiting for a good weather window, I set off on a nondescript Thursday from my home in Nelson. In three days I’d made it to Waikuku Beach just outside of Christchurch by traversing the Rainbow, Molesworth and St.James stations and conservation areas. Snow peppered the peaks visible from Island Saddle and wind howled around the basin of Lake Tennyson. I was swallowed by clouds of dust on my last climb and descent into Hanmer Springs thanks to the troops of holidaymakers in their AWD cars.

I chewed through the miles in Canterbury hitting the occasional tough bit of gristle. Headwinds, convoluted cycle paths and miles and miles of pancake flat gravel road. I had been using the Sounds2Sounds route as a framework for getting to Gore but found myself deviating in favour of visiting small towns, over extra kilometres on gravel backroads. By my fourth day despite months of training my hands were rattled to the point of permanent numbness in my left ring and pinkie finger and my left knee was playing up with an old familiar twinge.

My biggest challenge, I was beginning to realise, was headwinds and flat days. Elevation through a challenge provides a lovely boost of dopamine when you get to the top and if you’re lucky a delightful downhill. Headwinds were not only making my progress slow but muffling my hearing, making highway and road sections particularly testing. This coupled with gusts so strong they were pushing my laden bike around the road made for several very stressful days. But at my slower pace I could literally stop and smell the flowers. Alpine daisies and purple larkspur. Fields of multi-coloured swaying grasses. Rippling in waves as I glided by. The last of the lupins against a cloudless blue sky on the descent into Tekapo. Tiny Silvereyes feasting on roadside cherry trees. Aoraki/Mount Cook and its neighbours stark against stormy skies and Lake Pukaki capped with a herd of white horses. Every smell, good or bad, straight to my nostrils. Sweet honeydew and fresh cow shit. Dank waterproofs after a deluge crossing Ōmarama saddle swathed in low cloud. Fresh snow on the ranges and fields covered in purple flowering cover crops.

I met a few couples from the northern hemisphere touring but our paths diverged once I headed back to the hills. I admit I would feel a pang of jealousy at seeing those cycling with companions. I found myself seeking out conversation with strangers and making idle chit chat with anybody I could. Sleep had become a battle every night. Tossing and turning in my tiny one man tent. Possums plagued me in the small hours. Demonically chittering by my head. A lot has changed in my life since I planned this trip. Heartbreak, new love, finding a community, promotions and even before setting off I was beginning to ponder why I was doing it. Why cycle thousands of kilometres. Why put myself into discomfort? I really just wanted to see if I could do it.

After a month on the road and just shy of 1,500 kilometres later. I can say that it isn’t the distance that is the hard bit but keeping a balance. A balance between rest and adventure. And a balance between pushing and knowing when it’s time to stop. Stopping and being able to present where you are. Stopping and taking care of yourself. Stopping and being able to look back at what you’ve done and feel proud of how far you’ve come.

This trip was made a hell of a lot easier with a week’s worth of Real Meals.

Robyn Glendinning is a Senior Conservation Ranger and Illustrator based in Nelson. Her knee feels better, and she’s resting suspected carpal tunnel but is already planning her next bike trip.
You can follow her adventures on YouTube and Instagram.
https://www.instagram.com/robyn_glendinning
www.youtube.com/@robynglendinning