Grumpy Old Men On Bikes

Don't worry, your ordeal is almost over. Just this one and maybe a quick one when when I get back to blighty and then you are safe for a few months. Lots of songs to use up: This Town Ain't Big Enough For The Both of Us Rather than meet Frank outside the Civic   like a dating teenager I rode my bike back down to Bluff to meet him. He had spent a night on Stewart Island and was arriving back at Bluff on the 9am ferry. With the benefit of nearly twice as long as me for his ride he has been able to take the indirect route and even abandon the bike here and there for a bit of sightseeing. Despite the many differences in our timetables our experiences and impressions of NZ were remarkably similar. We had a good natter over coffee then rode back to Invercargill together and had lunch before shaking hands and going our separate ways. Frank is heading to Sydney for another 600 miles of riding in Oz on his way home, leaving me with a last day to kill in town. Before lea

So here is the man I have been chasing for 18 days. More later.

and I feel fine. Nothing to report about last night, no naked Swiss loonies, no lockouts, very boring! This morning I was up and on the road just after 7 and planning on taking 4 hours to get to Invercargil, then legs permitting a further 2 to Bluff. As I was leaving I saw a couple of riders coming past, heads own and really motoring....so I tacked on the back. They were a couple of Belgians (even Belgians are OK once you get to know them) who were hell bent on getting to Invercargill to catch a flight. We took it in turns to punch a hole through the air and averaged 16. It was very flat (I mean flat in the true sense as used in the rest of the world) and the wind didn't really pick up until 10:00 and by that time we were almost there! I felt so fresh that i threw my bags into the hostel and pressed on for Bluff, arriving at 11:45- about 2.5 hours earlier than expected. Bluff itself is a dump but Stirling Point is another quiet, tasteful, litter-free site with the obligatory

It's a Miracle I have no idea what is going on with my knee!  Last night it felt as if it was royaly buggered and any movement of the knee joint brought tears to my eyes.  This morning it was more or less right as rain - still a bit sore but perfectly use-able.  This necessitated a quick re-setting of my brain as I was mentally adjusted to a nice lazy day sitting in the bus.  Instead I got on my bike and did the ride to Lumsden.  The ride was typically NZ - apparently flat according to the elevation profile but actually up and down like a whore's drawers.  Once I cleared the bottom of Lake Wakatipu (I don't mean that I dredged the lake, just that the first part of the ride followed the edge of the lake) things settled down and the road was through a very broad flat valley and pretty manageable. Thanks to my 6:30 start I was all done by 2:30. I've Got Ewe Babe It's OK, I have found the sheep.  They are all huddling down in the bottom few miles of South Island; every

Yesterday was the easiest day's riding of the trip, certainly not very demanding on the body and I went to bed feeling ready to face New Zealand's highest road. So when I got up in the night for a pee and my left knee refused to co-operate I was more than a little surprised. Sure enough, this morning the left knee was in serious trouble, leaving me with a real dilemma - do the short hilly route or the much longer slightlylesshilly route? I decided that the Crown Range would have to wait and set off on the longer route which turned out to be a mistake. Instead of doing one big 3000 foot climb I probably did 60 little 100 foot climbs. It hurt. A lot. I made miserably slow progress and the 70 miles took almost 10 hours. I am taking as many ibruprofen as medical science permits and have bought a big sack of ice and all I can do now is hope for a miracle. The alternative is a bus to Invercargill, not quite the way I hoped to finish but this trip is already a bust as an end-

Kings of The Wild Frontier Greg maintained his drinking spree throughout the evening and was last seen wandering around the bar bouncing off things that didn't move out of the way fast enough.  This morning, much to my surprise, he emerged from his tent in full Mick Dundee outfit ready for a day in the bush. I thought perhaps I had misjudged him but then saw him loading his rucksack with 6 packs. Over dinner I enjoyed a quite couple of hours in the bar chatting with an ex commercial hot air balloon pilot from Suffolk.  He was also playing bushman, using the camp as a base for 3 day wilderness walks. We were getting along fine until he pointed out that Bluff is not actually the most southerly point on mainland NZ.  Bastard! Telegraph Road It seems it wasn't Greg who demolished the power pole but a motorcyclist who either fell asleep or decided to commit suicide in a spectacular fashion. I rode past the shiny new pole this morning and gave him a moments silence. Sta

An unscheduled post. I got on the road at 9, the sun was starting to light the mountain tops, a fair wind was pushing me in the back and I faced 50 miles of this view on a slightlylesshillythanusual road. This was the first song that Shuffle served up. Brought a lump to my throat. Plenty more songs later. ------------------

So, I extracted maximum possible value from my nice hotel room. The fluffy white towels were left grey and sodden, the little sachets of coffee and milk were either consumed or stolen, I used both sides of the bed and all the pillows and I may have left a bit of a mark where I oiled my chain. This morning I availed myself of the inclusive breakfast. This was only 'continental' (does that term apply down under I wonder?) but it is surprising how much cereal, toast, croissant and coffee you can consume when it is laid out for you. Two vaguely interesting snippets from the TVNZ breakfast show: 1/ the government has announced that 12 Christchurch schools will be closed because of declining numbers as families leave the city for somewhere safer 2/ Richard Briars got a full 5 minute obit - I told you they like their British TV! Thanks to my hard work yesterday I was only required to do 50 miles today, heading inland up the Haast Valley. I haven't really commente

Today I chased the pavement for 90 miles. It was supposed to be an 86 mile day but somehow it ended up as a nice round 90. This was good for 3 reasons: 1/ it was reassuring to establish that I can still do big mileages (including some substantial climbs) without dying, crying or quitting 2/ it reconfirmed the wisdom of my decision to cheat - I really wouldn't want to be doing that every day 3/ I am now a good way ahead of schedule From the YHA it was 14 mile slog up and over the hills to Fox Glacier. Guess what? No polar bear, no giant mint, nothing. Bloody con. The next 60 miles were relatively lesshillythanusual before another big climb over Knight's Point and a gentle run into Haast. About 10 miles from the end I got my second puncture in 2 days and a closer inspection confirmed my rear tyre was all but knackered so I changed it -hopefully that will fix things. Today surpassed itself for nothingness, between Fox and Haast there was.......err....a road.

You will need the name of the group to get the full benefit of this song: The obvious connection - I do indeed feel free now that I am not totally consumed with doing miles. Today was 70 and they were done by 3pm. The wind was more or less non-existent and the terrain was mostly flat and I just pushed the pedals, watched the scenery role by and did some good hard thinking. Even Mt Hercules turned out to have a Maori name of Mt Nowherenearasbadasanythingonnorthisland. By the way, a word or two about the Maori. Firstly, I see no obvious signs that they are oppressed and marginalised in the way that the Aborigines and Native Americans went once the white man turned up. They seem to be very much part of mainstream life, not significantly poorer than the white man and their culture seems to be part of daily life in NZ and embraced by all. Secondly, they seem to have more or less abandoned South Island. In the north I probably met more people of Maori descent than white anglo-saxons

For some reason photos added when I use my iPad don't upload so here is yesterday's photo. ------------------

It is difficult to overstate how empty South Island is. Imagine a country the size of England with a population just one fiftieth the size. Even Scotland, which we think of as sparsely populated, has five times as many people. To make matters worse, one third of all South Islanders live in Christchurch (after all with so much space where else would you live but in an area of major seismic activity?). Of course much of the land is covered with pesky mountains (actually almost 70 percent) and the result is a geography with 'major' towns 50-100 miles or more apart and with populations of just a few thousand. All this is my way of saying that I rode through an awful lot of nothing again today. Last night's hostel was very lovely and I had a good meal and watched The Departed on TV. While chatting with two Merican cyclists I discovered that they had met Frank on the Picton ferry - a weird connection between him and I. Frank, by the way, spent yesterday getting his frame

In New Zealand sheep outnumber people by 9 to 1. This says more about how few people there are than how many sheep there are but, none-the-less, 36 million is still a lot of sheep. I think the industry really took off when they realised that, apart from the obvious, sheep could also be exploited for their meat and wool! Of the population of about 4 million people, approximately 5.5 million are 'travelling' (working behind a bar in Earls Court) meaning that the country is actually devoid of human life and the sheep run the place. When you arrive in New Zealand you have to prove that you are not a carrier of scabies and do not have any mint sauce in your luggage. However , I have so far seen precious few of them. Cows, on the other hand, are a very different matter. Everywhere I have been there have been fields full of them and many dairy farms. Now, I don't want you to read too much into this, but they are very pretty cows! So far I just enjoy waving to them

You try finding a song to go with a picture of ducks! Actually, don't! The tavern last night was an interesting experience - there were 5 or 6 locals propping up the bar, all drinking like prohibition started at midnight and all with cars parked outside. The language was colourful, mostly just the f word. Anyway, I had a huge steak and chips and crept off to my tent at about 8:30 for a night listening to the wind switch by 180 degrees and turn up to warp factor 11. My worst fears were realised when I set off in the morning - flat out I could manage 8, that's not a typo...... 8....f******g EIGHT! To make matters worse there had been nowhere to get breakfast and the next amenities were 42 miles away. Bugger. I was cycling along a glacial valley (ok - a long flat bit with mountains on either side - it might have been glacial), slowly climbing but mostly just fighting a wind that occasionally reduced my speed to the point where forward momentum wasn't possible. I

So how can it be possible that, having arrived in Picton - a sea port and therefore presumably at sea level - the next 20 miles were all downhill? I have no idea either but I am not complaining. I was in Blenheim in no time thanks to the slight gradient and a fair tail wind. After I had visited the palace I found a bike shop and bought a spare tyre (my rear is looking very worn....my rear TYRE, though actually my rear is also showing wear!) and a spare gear cable (I had to change a cable yesterday) then turned inland to start to work across to the west coast. At this point the wind strengthened and was coming from dead astern and I flew. The road was uphill (well, rising about 50 feet per mile) but I was cruising at 18-20 mph without breaking sweat. Sadly I have had to stop early as the alternative is a further 50 miles to the next place with a campsite. If the wind changes direction in the morning I won't be happy. My home for the night is a patch of grass behind the Wairau V

This is a clever one; or at least I think so! No, I am not walking, I am on a boat. As some of you will know, I am the world's worst sailor and you will have to google the song to find the artist and all will be explained. After a tasty meal of dry bread and 11 hours sleep I felt somewhat better. Not exactly fighting fit but off the critical list. I took a flip through downtown Wellington on my way to the ferry port and we have now crossed the treacherous Cook Strait and are weaving out way up the sound to Picton. Naturally my breakfast re-appeared but that is just me and boats. I have just read the in-flight magazine. Only in NZ could they fill this with stories of sinkings, dramatic rescues and crossings that took 40 hours! However, they proudly boast that THIS ferry company hasn't lost a ship. To further aid my recovery I have re-planned my first few miles. I had planned to follow the coast north and round to Nelson but I am now taking a shorter southerly ro

Oh boy, where do I begin? For me the most poignant moment in the 2012 Olympics was the interview with Zac Purchase and Mark Hunter after they failed to win gold in the Olympics. Today I have a small insight into how they felt. At the end of yesterday I had done 300 miles in 3.5 days - more or less on schedule but it has all been terribly hard work. Last night I spent much of the night throwing up before whatever bug I had caught worked its way further south if you get my meaning. I set off this morning and managed about 50 miles (thanks to NZ's excellent public lavatories that are in every small town) but simply couldn't go any further. To be honest, even before the stomach bug I was starting to feel that this was really too much like hard work - I have not had the time to stop and take in any of the sensational scenery and in the evenings I just crash. The prospect of falling 40 miles behind schedule so early in the trip was crushing. So I took a decision. As I pa

This blog attracts a modest number of hits each day - maybe 20 on a slow day and perhaps 80 on a good day. However, since posting 'Little Boxes' a week ago this page alone gets 100-150 hits a day, all apparently originating in Greece. Occasionally a 'spam' comment gets left on the page and I assume that this is some sort of automated attack. If, on the other hand, there is a VERY enthusiastic Greek reader could I suggest they get a life. Oh yes, the Swedes are following things again so watch out for an Abba song soon. I left at about 8 this morning and immediately turned right, leaving Highway 1 which is the main artery through Auckland, and taking Highway 16. This was recommended as quieter and more scenic. It was certainly quieter but I cannot comment on the scenery as it is hard to look around when you are hunched over the bars with eyes full of sweat as you slog over 30 miles on endless hills. If there was a single flat yard I didn't spot it. Auckland is n

OK, now that the crisis has passed I have a confession. Yesterday wasn't just hard it was desperately hard. In cycling there is a term called 'bonking' for when you have completely exhausted all available energy. The effects can be quite spectacular and yesterday, at about 60 miles, I bonked big time. Never mind average speeds of 10.7, the last 10 miles took me 2 hours. The final mile to the pub was up a gentle gradient and I had to walk. Only Knobby will understand the significance of this..... Steve does NOT walk up hills! I went to bed a very worried man. However, the restorative powers of a $20 steak and 10 hours under the bed should not be underestimated. I set out with considerable trepidation but today was OK and I managed a magnificent 92 miles - this is well into Frank-catching territory and more like 7 miles beyond target. AND I was done by 4pm! Although I am definitely less fit than I would like, I think yesterday was a combination of jet-lag, starting th

G'day. My first full day on the road is behind me and I can report that I should have trained harder :-(. I had a difficult night's sleep but this is usual for the first night of camping. It takes a while to re-learn the art of sleeping in a tent slightly smaller than an empty crisp bag. I was up and out promptly - for some inexplicable this seemed much easier without Knobby. I even tried remembering I needed a poo just as I was ready then fiddling with my saddle for a bit but I was still on the road on time at 7:30. The first 25 miles were very easy, flat with no wind at all, and I reached Kaitaia in no time at all. I loose something on every trip and this time it was my multi-tool so when I saw a couple of cyclists I asked them if there was a bike shop in town. The answer was No but one of them insisted on giving me his multi-tool; I tried refusing and offering to pay for it but he wouldn't hear a word. I didn't catch your name but THANKS! After a nice breakfas

A busy old day! The tour bus turned up at 8 sharp and started its journey up to the cape. It is really intended for people with a day to waste so stops at all the tourist attractions on the way. The first of these was to walk into the forest and see the 'really enormous trees. 'Excuse me', I asked, 'Are these trees so enormous you could cut a hole and drive a Chrysler Town and Country through one?'. The Guide thought for a moment then conceded that no, this was not possible. I stayed in the bus. After a few more stops we turned left and drove the last 30 or so miles to the Cape up 90 Mile Beach. This beach is so named because it is about 60 miles long (yes I did ask but can still cannot explain), the bus actually drives on the sand, weaving in and out of the surf. I can only assume that Skania issues a 6 year anti-corrosion warranty and the canny Kiwis are getting their money's worth. Finally at about 1pm we arrived at Cape Reinga. In the UK equivalent

I recently had the misfortune to take a 2 stop ride on the London Underground. The price for my five minutes in a Victorian cattle truck in a hole in the ground worked out at about £2 per mile. In contrast my whole day spent getting to NZ in the best technology the 21st century can muster cost a miserly 5p per mile. There is something terribly wrong with this! Yes, I made it and I can confirm that it really is a terribly long way. My fourth and final plane delivered me to Kerikeri at about 5pm local time after almost 30 hours of flying. On this last brief flight I was befriended by a brit who now has a home in Kerikeri and he very kindly gave me a lift to my motel. This was fortunate because Kerikeri airport is not the sort of place to have a fleet of taxis waiting out front. The runway is paved.......other than that it was basically a small hut at the side of a field - apparently there isn't even a control tower, the pilot just broadcasts loud and clear that he is coming

I have seen the future!  When they announced the Airbus A380 there was much talk about all the incredible things they could do with such a chuffing big plane.  'Oh yeah' I thought, 'they will just cram more seats in and it will be as awful as ever'.  I was wrong.  Yes, there are a lots of seats, but the cabin is airy and spacious with generous legroom.   I don't know if you can buy one of these things with different trim levels and options but, if so, Emirates went for the Ghia.  In front of me is a huge touch-screen tv with 1000 channels including a library of 200 on-demand movies (all garbage but that is the fault of Hollywood not Emirates).  I have a normal power socket for charging a compooter and a USB socket for charging phones and I am filing this blog from 35000 feet using the free wifi!!!!! If I get bored with the view from the window I can switch to the view from the cameras mounted in the nose, high on the tail and in the underside of the fuselage

....from misery to happiness today, aha aha aha aha (this one is by The Proclaimers but I am not going to spoon feed you on this trip so you will have to get used to spotting on you your own .)   About bloody time says Bridget.  I really am VERY immature and once I have something to look forward to I get very impatient; so the last few weeks have been a real ordeal for me. I may have only packed on Sunday but it is not an exaggeration (Knobby will believe me) to say that I have really had everything ready since Christmas!   I will shortly head off to Heathrow for the endurance test that is known as ‘flying to New Zealand’. It is about 6.5 hours to Dubai then an epic 18 hour haul to Auckland with a stop for petrol in Melbourne.      For the last 2 and a bit weeks Frank Burns has been busy putting distance between himself and me.  I have been following his progress with interest and frustration – the place looks and sounds fantastic.   Frank’s lead looks something like

So here I am, packed and ready to go: The tent, helmet and shoes are hidden in the bike box but this is my wardrobe, bed, kitchen and bike repair shop for 3 weeks. The little bag will travel with me but the rest goes in the boot (or whatever it is called on a plane).  The checked baggage weighs 28kg which is fine for Emirates, where my allowance is 30kg, but a bit of a problem for Eagle Air who allow a stingy 23kg.  There will be some hasty re-packing in Auckland to convert 5kg of checked weight into carry-on weight.  If the worst come to the worst I can wear all my clothes as nobody seems to care how much the passenger weighs.  When I run the world (surely it can only be a matter of time) passengers will be given an all-in weight allowance for luggage and lard - the down side of this policy will be some very large people on holiday with very few clothes, NOT a good combination! The observant among you may have spotted that it is Sunday and I don't leave u