The day the rubber hit the road.
A chilly West Coast morning greeted the Prickly adventurers on Thursday the 4th May 2017.
With the smell of coal fires in the air memories came flooding back of Greymouth and adventures past on the West Coast before my illness. A place to be explored, stunning landscape with a special breed of Kiwi’s who call it home.
A great Southern breakfast supplied by Molesworth Tours had been cooked by our team members who joined us from Nelson and a fine feast it was for the first day of the cycling challenge. I overloaded not wanting to offend the kind giver of my breakie and too darn good to say That’s enough!
It was find the wet weather over trousers time as drizzle descended, riding jacket on and high viz jacket not to mention the thermal layers beneath and alpine socks to keep the toes and feet as warm as possible.
It was at this point I was introduced to one of Greymouth Star reporters, Paul who had come to capture the moment for those who call the West Coast home.
I was informed at this point, we would be riding the West Coast wilderness trail accompanied by Tim’s aunty Julie who lives in Greymouth. The trail extends from just south of Greymouth right down to Ross south of Hokitika, it is a gravel trail following old tramway lines, early gold digger tracks and even paths that early Maori took for sourcing Pounamu, Greenstone. We had planned on taking the route from Greymouth via lake Brunner but the tour company had planned the wilderness trail in their safety plan starting with the wilderness trail of 10 kilometres which would bring the team out just north of Kumara junction. The reason being there were extensive roadworks taking place just south of Greymouth and this would avoid them for the cyclist not for the coach.
The recumbent managed to sneak it’s way past the pillars at the entrance and exiting of the trail with some good navigation needed, the bush was brought alive to Prickly behind even more with drizzle descending and the gravel pathway a good wake up call for Prickly behind behind.
The teams contingency plans hadn’t included a bush trail so it was a case of fingers crossed we get to the other end without break down. The Master blessed us that morning and we exited the wilderness trail after several moments of uncertainty for Prickly behind and onwards we rode to Kumara junction.
Kumara is pronounced Koomara with the emphasis on the mara so eye brows aren’t raised by West Coasters.
It was morning tea time as we had re-joined the coach on the main inland highway, state highway 76. The drizzle had eased, the homemade baking was hitting the spot and the cup of tea was just what the doctor ordered. Little did I know this would be the best break of the day, that extra breakie would serve me well and the cups of tea at this point would fuel me for a ride of around 76 kilometres climbing from the coast road to a height of around 700 metres at Otira. The morning has been so cold I had my ski gloves on to save the fingers from freezing . Only trouble was, with the thicker padded gloves on I was struggling to switch between the high and low range of gears plus changing gears was a lot slower and it was impacting on my performance. So off they had to come and on with the fingerless riding gloves in spite of the cold.
I knew from here on in it was all climb, climb, climb. I had prepared myself for this well in advance, at least the drizzle had eased, it was time to make it count. What lay ahead I knew not and I determined if I keep that crank a turning there’s little chance I will be pulled off the bike unless the weather is to severe or the cold starts to bite me to hard.
It was time to head inland,, my drinking tube was in place feeding Gatorade from my camelback, there was a cool breeze, pats on the back and signs on the foot told me we’re off Prickly behind.
My performance improved dramatically with the change of gloves switching gears with ease and navigating the high and low range button with more accuracy. The rises kept coming and the flat sections and slight downhill sections grew less and less. I worked my gears to get the maximum speed that I could sustain for a long period of time, this was not a race but an endurance ride. Push too hard now and blow all your energy to soon. With good training the upper body has incredible power with the hand crank set at the right height and distance from the body which is vital for long endurance rides as I learned in training preparing for the Taupo challenge with the crank not quite set right after 6 to 7 hours of working that crank, I was experiencing pain right on the tips of my Elbows and it was difficult to continue riding.
Around an hour and a half after the stop at Kumara junction, the drizzle started again and the wind had risen slightly as well, the drizzle turned to rain and a quick stop was needed to remove my Cochlea, my hearing implant. I would ride the rest of the day in complete silence only accompanied by a degree of Tinnitus. The rain was icy cold, at this point I did not have my riding jackets head part on under my riding helmet. The icy rain drops were running through the open slots on my helmet and chilling my head, my cauldron was nice and warm at this point with a layer of Merino around my tummy, I could smell livestock grazing on West Coast farms and I said a quiet thank you that I wasn’t born a Merino.
I let the mind drift to what I remember of the landscape we were riding through while keeping the crank a turning to keep my mind from the elements and now realising my riding jacket wasn’t holding out the rain or was it a case of being damp from sweating. The later was the case, thankfully the thermal kept me warm in spite of the dampness.
At a stop to change pilots which become a routine change over around every 10 or so kilometres to keep fresh legs on the front of the recumbent as a different range of muscles is used when riding a sit down bike, I took the opportunity to pull my head cover of my riding jacket over my head and donned my helmet again. Wet clod head now covered and helmet back in place is not a welcoming feeling but I knew I was losing to much heat pit pf ,u head and the mind games were starting up.
You’re getting cold Prickly behind, there’s a good chance you’ll be pulled off the bike, the focus left the stunning landscape I had been reflecting on and now I noticed the cold creeping up my arms. This is not good, the icy rain still coming down, I pulled the visor of my jackets hood down over my face as I wanted to check the level of warmth from my breath on my face and I hoped the warm breath would warm my head a bit as well. My breath had good warmth and the warmth from my breath did warm my head and the mental challenge of the cold eased for a while. Vehicles whizzing by in the other direction and those passing us sent showers of icy water across the face, I learned later that a kind West Coast firewood truck driver stopped his truck and ran across to Hayley a support rider handing her a twenty dollar note saying shout yourselves some beers.
I knew it was late in the afternoon, the rain had stopped, there was a crisp chill in the air, we were climbing the Southern Alp’s, I longed for a cup of team a filled roll was thrust into my hand, there is no time to stop as we are now racing with darkness approaching, eat and ride. I cried out, how long before we stop for the day but my words were carried away by the wind. How many kilometres had we done, I thought from my calculations around 50, oh man we are a long way short I said to myself, disappointment start to play in my head and the cold started to creep back up my arms again, this time I could feel the cold even in my shoulders and I said if that cold gets to my chest I will have to make the decision myself to get off as I will be placing the team at risk. I asked the Master to please allow warmth to flow into my arms and shoulders as I dug a little deeper and turned that crank hoping to create more warmth. The combination of the cold and the disappointment of not achieving the intended goal for the day started to play havoc with my head. I was somewhere in the middle of nowhere on the inland route through the Southern Alp’s on the West Coast knowing darkness was approaching but no gauge on when, no idea of what we had achieved to that point and wondering how far short we would be of our goal. All I could think of at that point was, later tonight I will be looking back and wondering if only I could have dug a little deeper we might have made it and I could sense the disappointment but know I must keep positive for the sake of the team.
I could feel it, there was warmth starting to flow or was I imagining it, the cauldron was warm that was a big plus then the bike came to a halt, I prepared myself as I expected this to be the end of riding for the day and I knew the emotions might get the better of me.
I could smell the small railway settlement with coal fires warming the 20 or so houses that makes up the small West Coast town plus a pub.
It was just after six o’clock, darkness had fallen, I was asked if I was happy to end the ride for the day to which I said yes,. I boarded the coach with the team helping me to bum jump my way up the steps and into my seat, a quick change of my upper body clothing was a must while the team loaded the bike trailer. Mary Fisher had Googled the distance we had cycled since leaving Greymouth around nine o’clock that morning, we had achieved 88 kilometres climbing to a height of over 700 metres.
From Otira there was a distance of around 8 kilometres climbing 250 metres over that distance up the Otira gorge and over the viaduct where one of the team spotted a wobbly Kea crossing the road on his way home from the pub and onwards we went to the summit and down into Arthurs Pass village.
There was no time for showers as a restaurant was awaiting our arrival. The Wobbly Kea welcomed us in with a warming embrace from the open fire and the taste buds were set alive with the aroma of a chef in their element at work in the kitchen.
Man that chefs choice of the day sure hit the spot for me as I pondered a day of huge challenge, a day of mixed emotions and an achievement the team sure could be proud of. The decision to not ride the Otira gorge and viaduct was the right one to be made, way too dangerous after dark and even trying to ride during the day would place the team at risk rue to the extremely steep gradient. Take a look at footage on You Tube of people walking it and you will agree.
My next post will have some details around the rail tunnel from Otira to Arthur’s Pass and the viaduct, amazing engineering and construction accomplishments.
Kind regards,
Phil.
Please take a look at my givealittle page and please help me on my quest for essential braille communication technology:
Also check out the ‘Ultimate Challenge’ which is in May 2017, we need your help to make it happen!! http://www.thekingsarms.co.nz/an-ultimate-challenge
"To achieve great things, you not only need to act, but also dream, not only plan, but also believe"
"One should never creep, when one is compelled to soar"
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