A chilly awakening followed by an over the top delight.
It was Friday morning the 5th of May. I awoke early after a pleasant night’s sleep with the wood fire keeping the unit I shared with my brother cosy warm.
We had staying the night in Arthur’s Pass village and on exiting my unit after a great cooked Southern breakie I would receive a chilly awakening. Oh yes oh yes, we were in the chiller room of the South Island up amongst the Alp’s Keep moving to keep yourself warm my mind was saying while stuck in w wheelchair with blind sight. A recipe for disaster I must say and to add to that our motel was up a rise on School Road Who knows why it was called school road as there is no school there, maybe a dream that never transpired.
Anyone would think I was planning on a day at a ski field the way I was dressed, poor interpreters signing through padded snow gloves, harden up you might say.
Well I had to very soon donning my riding gloves, scarf around my neck, couple of stones for eyes and a carrot for the nose, the snowman was about to be set on the loose
Molly the coach was warmed up, I detected the diesel fumes in the pristine Alpine air, support riders were ready and Mary Fisher and her dad were buzzing about another days ride through the Alp’s accompanying Prickly behind the whole way on their tandem.
The exhilaration of riding at altitude on a chilly morning, the speed of the bike intensifying the chill factor even more, the fingers, where were they, still attached but numb with the cold. There was only four layers on the upper body with three on the legs and still the chill could be felt.
It was a beautiful day they told me, who’s leg are you pulling I muttered but quietly prayed it would be. That warmth I felt on my left cheek as we hit a downhill section, then it was gone. Must have been my imagination as the chill kept me pumping that crank for all it was worth to get the blood a pumping. The warmth was on my cheek again and then gone as quickly as it came.
It was time to stop as the stop go man had his sign out I learnt later, major road work were taking place I took the opportunity to lose the scarf and commented on the beautiful day to my pilot Jon, the sun had greeted us but we would ride in and out of patches of sun under the shade of the towering mountains as we rode through Temple basin.
A short time later we were on the move again with the feel of gravel under the tyres but not for long, we came to a sudden stop. What was up! I learnt later that the road worker with the stop go sign had screamed out, “Stop stop” my pilot thinking he was speaking to us, as did the coach driver of Molly following behind us and concerned support riders wondering what was up.
When the stop go sign had spun around to go for traffic on our end of the road works and we had started to cycle our way through the road works, a car about twelve back in the line of cars waiting for the sign to turn to go in our direction decided it would be a great opportunity to do a takeover manoeuvre with the intention of passing as many cars as possible, he was flying towards a road worker holding a stop go sign and road works behind him. The driver was stopped in time, sadly a foreigner and the road worker commented to our coach driver he had almost been taken out in a similar incident the previous day. It is important you know to be a great rush to get from point a to b while driving through the Southern Alp’s and all its magnificent beauty.
Onwards we rode with plenty of downhill sections as I said to myself, the lower we descend the higher we have to climb near days end and then another uphill section came along. Somewhere along this section of highway I lost an important part of my riding kit, the end of my drinking tube which I squeezred with my kips to suck from the camelback. No point in wasting time to try and find it, a needle in a haystack kind of venture.
A reserve by lake Pearson was our lunch spot, I know this area and had a good memory within my mind’s eye as we parked up in the sun, the sun was warm but the chiller door was wide open. White stuff iced the towering mountains on either side as the picnic tables were dressed with red and white table clothes and a fine fair of Southern hospitality was served up Gilled door wedge rolls were served with homemade baking to accompany them and a cup of tea or two to wet the whistle.
The reflections on the lake were something to behold I was told that day, God’s own is what we call this land.
We had made good progress in the morning session of the ride achieving just over 50 kilometres, nigh on halfway but the challenge lay ahead I did to myself. How Far to Porter’s pass, around 14 kilometres came the message signed back to me. Oh man, I had survived the first day on the West Coast through all the icy rain and being soaked through without being pulled off the bike. Now we had a beautiful day, spirits were in good shape, energy was sitting at a good level but I knew it would take all I had and more to summit that pass. I determined, if I just keep that crank a turning even in the lowest gear that I had, maybe I could inspire the team not to give up and pull me off but to give it our best shot.
I tried to calculate the distance in my head knocking off each kilometre as we set off from lake Pearson reserve, I thought we were close then another downhill section, we must be there now and another short downhill, then I said to myself we must be on the long drag now that leads to the pass, we had been on this uphill section for some time now. It was time for a quick stop, pilot change time and time for Prickly behind to strip the riding jacket , oh yes the big one was here. Would the tandem make it, I dug deep to find the good stuff the good stuff called potential and my team inspired me to do that, as I cranked up that steep steep drag that never seemed to end, the team were lining up eagerly at the door of the bus for their turn to run up and give the back rest of my seat a good bit of grunt as Prickly behind quickly navigated his gears to adjust to the sudden increase in speed, it became a skill I had to master quickly to maximise every effort being put in and to show I was giving it my best shot hoping to inspire them onwards and upwards. It was so steep in sections that team members would knock their chins on my helmet and I learnt later that Mary and her dad had walked several sections. On and on it went, climbing climbing, the warmth on my cheeks was dropping lower and lower, it must be close on five o’clock I said to myself, can we make it, the roof was dripping and not from the heavens above, the tube was being sucked on to keep the energy levels as high as possible, there were mutters of thanks from Prickly behind for each extra bit of grunt applied from team members as he daren’t let go of the tube held between his teeth.
Then all of a sudden, I felt slaps on my back and I said to myself, oh man I’m being pulled off the bike, we didn’t make it I gave it my best, the team gave it their best, that is going to be a tough ride down the other side after reaching the top in the coach having not achieved it.
The message came to me, we are at the top, you’re kidding me I said as a huge smile hit the dial and oh what satisfaction that was, the weak had been outstanding. I would have never made it without them and I am not planning on attempting it in the near future on my own as amazing as GP systems are these days.
There’s a very cool photo of us at the top of Porters Pass with Molly the coach in the background, the pass is 939 metres high. Well you done ride all the way to the top to not go down the other side, so it was time to done the riding jacket as hot as I was at that point and man oh man I sure needed it on the way down. With the sun sinking behind the horizon for another days end it was chilly with an exclamation mark times ten and the downhill went on and on so much so at one point Prickly behind got confused thinking we were still on a downhill and we had hit the flat. My spirits were soaring as much as my body was tired and sore, we kept going and I knew darkness must have overtaken us which it had but we were right on the outskirts of Springfield and we rode right through the small town to our accommodation at the YHA hostel. We had achieved the goal of cycling the 83 kilometres from Arthur’s pass to Springfield over Porter’s pass. Porter’s pass is New Zealand’s third highest pass after Milford and Lindis.
We had done it as a team, why Together Everyone Achieves More. Thank you Prickly adventurers for inspiring and believing in me.
Kind regards,
Phil Thorn
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