Pedaling the Otago Rail Trail

Railway lines converted to cycling and walking trails are becoming a global phenomenon. I have cycled many of them in eastern Canada, so know what to expect, or at least I think I do. I was eager to travel New Zealand’s first rail trail the Otago from Middlemarch to Clyde on South Island. Lonely Planet has billed it as one of the world’s top ten cycle trips along with the Cabot Trail in Cape Breton.
The railway from Dunedin to Clyde was built around the turn of the last century, not the most recent. Although it was completed long after the boom gold rush days of Central Otago, it transported wool, livestock, fruit and passengers for many decades. Its demise began when the government lifted a ban on truck transportation for distances of over 48 kilometers. Use declined during the 70s and 80s with the last section closing in 1990. Already questions had arisen about its future use and as in PEI there were moves to return it to the landowners along the route but public opinion and initiative prevailed and converted it to a cycle trail, Over a period of a few years, the rails and sleepers were lifted, repairs to bridges and tunnels effected and the surface converted, but more on the surface later. It was opened in 2000 in collaboration with the Department of Conservation (equivalent of Parks Canada) and the Otago Rail Trail Trust.
I have always thought that rail trails are a good idea but they do have their downsides, monotony being one. On the Otago that is not a problem, the scenery is spectacular, sometimes distant, sometimes up close but never boring. The Trail is 150 kms and is cycled by keeners in 1 or 2 days but I opted for five leisurely days stopping to absorb the surroundings and the bountiful information about the landscape and history which is found frequently along the trail in shelters.
I started my journey with a 65 km train ride from Dunedin to Middlemarch, this is the only part of the railway still in operation and it is essentially a tourist train through the very scenic Taieri Gorge. At Middlemarch I stepped off the train and walked across the road to pick up my bicycle, paniers and a helmet, leaving the rest of my luggage with the bike rental company for transport to my destination Clyde Then I set off up the wide Strath Taieri Valley with mountain ranges on each side, through pastures with multitudes of sheep. It has been very dry for months so most of the landscape is brown but here and there patches of green from irrigation. Towards Hyde, the valley narrows and the trail becomes rougher, a slight incline, a stony surface and a wind from the north made for challenging pedalling and I was happy to arrive at the Edgewater Guest House right beside the trail 28 kms north of Middlemarch. Dinner bed and breakfast and some good conversation mostly about sheep farming, water rights and the ecological footprints of livestock farming in NZ versus other countries. My hosts had 4000 sheep on hill pastures and a “few” cattle, I didn’t ask how many as I have learned that “few” means less than a thousand.
On day two I woke to rain which quickly cleared and a cool southerly breeze propelled me through Hyde into the Upper Taieri Gorge and onto the vast Maniototo Plain, locally referred to as big sky country The mountain ranges still in evidence but more distant. The trail again became challenging on account of the surface which really is very variable, I tried a road detour to avoid stones but ended up taking a wrong turn and having to backtrack to the hamlet of Kokonga. The Maniototo is etched in New Zealanders minds by realist painter Grahame Sydney whose renderings of the landscape, buildings, fences and mailboxes are reminiscent of Alex Colville’s paintings of Atlantic Canada. The temperature dropped during the day and I needed my fleece, windbreaker and gloves for the last hour of pedaling. I arrived in the art deco village of Ranfurly for my second night at a basic but comfortable backpackers but discovered to my dismay that the only ATM in town was out of cash.
On day three I crossed the rest of the Maniototo through Wedderburn with its delightful rest spot and honesty cafe. I helped myself to a ginger beer from the cooler, popped money in the honesty box and watched a video about the trail and learned about Merinos and Merino crosses and the kinds of fleece they produce. Then there was a bit of a slog up to the highest point of the trail at 618m, very close to the 45 degree S latitude marker and with a grand view of the Mount Ida range. Clouds threatened most of the day but made for very beautiful skies and I so enjoyed coasting downhill to Oteruhua where I stayed in a delightful cabin, watched the sunset and had lamb shank and a local Pinot Noir for dinner. Oteruhua has a general store which combines contemporary retail with its 1900s village store interior.

It was cool, (6C) when I awoke and set off for what turned out to be the most spectacular day along the Ida Valley then through the Poolburn Gorge, two tunnels and across several viaducts and past thousands of sheep, mostly merinos. This is wool country. At lunch in the Lauder Hotel I met three Winnipegers who were doing the trail in two days. In the afternoon the descent continued and I took road detour into Ophir a former gold mining town with some beautiful historic buildings and reputedly New Zealand’s most extreme temperatures. The end of the afternoon saw me coasting down the steepest incline of the trail to Chatto Creek Tavern, my haven for the night and a meal of blue cod in the company of fellow cyclists The local “southern men” propping up the bar were bemoaning the fact that their favourite TV host has come out as a lesbian and they were going to have to adjust their fantasies. The scenery here was reminiscent of the foothills in Alberta and the ranges have been described to be as “rumpled as a bunkhouse blanket”
The final day dawned cold and bright as I pedalled into Alexandra, the country changing from hills to orchards and vineyards in the Manuherikia valley. Time to sample some of the local wines and finish up the trip at Clyde, a charming village where I stayed at the Hartley Arms backpackers, brushing against a large lavender bush en route to my hollyhock festooned room.

Yes it is one of the world’s great cycle trips, especially the scenery and the services en route and for planning the trip. I could not have imagined doing it on my hybrid; the bike I rented was a mountain with really stubby tires and front suspension since the surface is less than perfect. At best it is OK, a reasonably fine gravel which thousands of cyclists have worn to quite a smooth path, but in other places there are larger pebbles and sometimes deep gravel. Commenting on this to cyclists I met, they agreed and said let the Otago Rail Trail Trust know, apparently some sections have already been improved. Most people were using mountain bikes but I met people on hybrids, a couple of folding bikes and a recliner. The trail has also been cycled on a tricycle and every year there is a nudist cycle ride. I only met one person on foot and no horses but perhaps 200 or more cyclists over the days I was on the trail. Most of them were Kiwis, a few Brits, Aussies Canadians, Swiss and Germans. The Otago Rail Trail Trust has an excellent website at http://www.otagorailtrail.co.nz/ I made all my decisions and bookings based on information they provide or I could have just handed the whole planning process over to one of a number of companies but as some of you know, I like being my own travel agent.

Now for three days on one of the world’s great walks, The Routeburn Track

Of Glaciers and Fiords

The south west part of South Island is one of the highest rainfall areas on the planet, which explains why the glaciers are advancing rather than retreating. Yes, the melt is happening but the tops of the glaciers are re-loaded with snow to such an extent that in the past decade they have advanced They are also very dynamic glaciers, I witnessed an icefall from the face on the day I went to the Fox Glacier. There are warnings everywhere but a few people have been killed at Fox in the past few years. As our guide said, they were male, Australian and ignored the signs. Flying over and around Mt Cook was an amazing experience, ice and snow and rock everywhere and falling away on every side a newly minted glacial landscape. And the walk on the glacier was a personal achievement. Ice never was my medium but even less so since the ankle break just over a year ago. The crampons were amazing, I will be welded to my YakTrax next winter in PEI.

After the glaciers I drove east over the Haas pass to Wanaka which is in a rainshadow on the east side of the Alps, bare hills fewer trees and grand vistas then on to Te Anau which was my base for exploring the “Sounds” as they are called, fiords on the south west coast of New Zealand. I drove in a leisurely fashion to Milford Sound stopping to explore the various trails along the way. I walked through southern beech forests and up to the spectacular Marion Falls then through into an alpine landscape before entering the Homer Tunnel to descend to Milford Sound where I boarded a late afternoon cruise on Milford Sound, it was a beautiful clear day and Milford is as all the photos suggest exquisitely beautiful with its hanging valleys, waterfalls, seals, dolphins and the iconic Mitre Peak.

But it was Doubtful Sound and the Tasman Sea that really captured me, at times I was moved to tears. It was so beautiful and so evocative of a time long gone when European explorers ventured to what was then the end of the earth. We sailed into quiet arms, swam in waters rich with plankton and took a small boat ride close to the shore to marvel at the moss gardens and the trees clinging onto rocks. I saw dolphins playing and a large colony of seals with their pups. Then as the sun was setting we sailed out into the Tasman Sea and saw shearwaters, Royal Albatross and mollymawks, and as we turned back into the sound, I imagined myself on the deck of the Endeavour. I heard the aristocratic Banks urging the pragmatic Cook to sail into the sound as it looked like a fine place for botanising, but Cook, reading the waters and the topography, thought it too risky and sailed on, leaving the name, Doubtful Harbour.
Our nature guide, Wattsie, was a mine of information and stories of this place. He was particularly fond of explaining misnomers, such as calling a fiord a sound and a sealion a seal . And he was very excited by the intricacies and idiosyncracies of the glacial landscape. All this was wound into the Maori mytholgy of what we were experiencing.

After a fine dinner and some South Island Pinot Noir we gazed at the night sky, I’m getting used to seeing Orion upside down. I slept well in a cosy cabin and awoke before dawn to witness the morning sky at the top of the sound. After breakfast and before returning to land, we spent an utterly silent fifteen minutes at the top of one of the arms under towering cliffs, no waterfalls, no birds singing, no wind, it was completely primeval.

As the morning rolled on I really didn’t want to return to shore, just as I had been reluctant to leave the Tarkine Wilderness in Tasmania. It was particularly shocking since when waiting for the ferry transfer to Manapouri I suffered my first attack of sandflies, didn’t seem like much at first but I was left with a very irritating four day itch around the feet and ankles.