Castle Hill Cycling Trip!

Okay I never did make it, but it was a mere 10 kms away...

The first week in NZ was a blissful bumble around the sights near Canterbury. Just about anywhere towards the alpine region was a sight really - I was spouting over and over that I would ride a bicycle on those alpine highways, I would roll down the hills till my soul exploded.

I have not ridden on the open road in my life, and hadn't done much cycling for the past decade. Cameron Highlands didn't offer that much in way of bicycle infrastructure. And despite my spirited babble I was too cheap to get a bicycle for the next year or so. It was a good thing that when I finally did I had some time to learn some basic bicycle stuff like signalling and riding with helmets and riding on sidewalks is illegal, what?

It was later in the year and the weather was getting warm enough to think up absurd ideas. I was loathe to stick in Christchurch much longer and needed to get out of town. On that premise I put upon myself the end goal of climbing around the Castle Hill rocks and the means being a bicycle.

She'll be roight as roine, as kiwis say. I'll get up early and take all day to get there, easy.

I like to tell myself that I nearly killed myself trying only because I invited Dhaka (redacted) along. The reality was probably more like, I would've given up halfway and stayed at a town before even reaching a hill. Two nights before the endeavour I happened to chat with Dhaka and told him about "oh, not much this weekend bro, I wanna cycle to Castle Hill". Dhaka thought it sounded really fun and asked if he could come; He reckons expertly that it shouldn't take much more than half a day to reach Castle Hill. Besides, it was dangerous to ride on the dark highway really early in the morning. And so it was settled - we shall leave around noon, after first stopping by his house to get his sister's road bicycle for me, and a mountain bike for himself.

In the morning we stopped by his house and I tried out a road bicycle for the first time - it felt as sleek as it looked, if not a little sensitive to turns! I felt a tad inadequate to embark this first journey on such an elegant steed. I also felt like I betrayed my bicycle. Dhaka showed me how he could do a bike stand - that is, staying upright on a stationary bicycle without pedaling! He stood up on his pedals in a horizontal position with his elbows cocked, tilting the front wheel slightly at an angle. I had a few tries and then we went in for a drink while checking out his log cabinnish house. His bunk bed was super high up. And totally irrelevant to this anecdote.

We shopped for food at the Church Corner Countdown, and were off... for an ice cream outside Yaldhurst.

It wasn't particularly pleasant to ride at midday with enormous trucks driving past at 70 odd kph, but it was less intimidating than I expected it to be. It quickly became less and less of a distraction as I realised I probably would not fully absorb the rolling-downhill-parts - I was already getting tired, and we were barely out of Christchurch. After the ice cream near Oderings we came to the turn off to the Old West Coast Road. The day was as sunny as the road was straight, and there was an unrelenting oncoming wind, constant and gruelling. I don't know how many times along a straight section did I imagine, no, simulated an old woman with her walker tottering beside me, but she matched, if not exceeded, my speed in my mind each time.

We stopped a couple of times for snacks, and drained our bottles pretty soon. We came to a driveway with a tap sticking next to the fence, and we feasted on it, in the sun, heat, and wind, by a pretty empty highway, near the shade of an old, rather sizeable but untidy pine tree. Amongst the disappointments of wind and slope directions was the shattered hope of going past Darfield for a big ice cream.

Eventually we rejoined the Great Alpine Highway, and presently came to Sheffield. We got some meat pie and drink, and cycled on to Springfield. At this point I was already quite tired, and amazed at Dhaka's stamina - he had the wide wheels on his mountainbike, which I learned just last year contributes a lot to rolling resistance. The sleek wheels on my bicycle seemed to offer little consolation now, but I knew they were instrumental to my being able to catch up thus far.

We took another break shortly after Springfield, and as we ate muesli bars we saw a cyclist approach from a distance, from behind us. He caught up with us, and we saw he was equipped with packs on either side of his two wheels. His shades glinted in the sun as he smiled. I thought he looked like a masochist who relished the toil. Then I supposed mine was scarcely a less voluntary endeavour.

As it turned out Tim (redacted) was cycling the length of New Zealand, after completing rides in Europe and large parts of Australia. We continued onwards with our new companion, who chatted happily about a lovely unexpected breakfast invite he got just along the highway that morning, to a Bed n' Breakfast. New Zealand has such hospitable and welcoming randoms! I soon lost track of his travel tales though, as I fell behind both of them, who chatted and went on comfortably.

When we made it to the foot of Porters Pass, Dhaka decided to wait for me and cheer me on. I truly felt on my limits, as we began the ascent - what a ginormous climb it was! I was in agony and I snapped at Dhaka when he said I could do it - my calves began to cramp on each rotation and there was no way I could make it - but I still did try to until just past halfway. I just could not any longer and got off to walk. I felt a bit defeated given the saddle was literally in view, 200 meters away, which Dhaka had reiterated for the past 10 minutes. I was a bit angry that Dhaka pushed me that hard but felt rather grateful and sheepish as we stopped for a muesli bar, taking in the views of the valley. We decided we would just put the night at Lake Lyndon, which is just on the other side of the incline.

Before this point Tim had already gone ahead. We got back on bicycles again on the saddle to roll down to Lake Lyndon. It was blissful, but not in the same way as I first imagined.

We had some dinner with Tim at Lake Lyndon, and prepared for bed straight away. It was not raining so we thought it would be cool to sleep under the sky.

It did rain however, and we had to move in the middle of the night to the shelter nearby. it only had benches and floor, with no doors. It kept the rain off though, though the winds continued to bellow. Our sleep was patchy until early morning, when the weather calmed. When we finally got up it was 9:30 am, and sunny! Somewhere early in the morning Tim had bade us farewell, but we were too half asleep to really remember.

The wind was thankfully in the same direction as the last day, and so we had a rather strong tailwind the entire way back to Christchurch! It was a surprisingly shorter and pleasurable experience. We took a break by a long line of hedge, as the rain began to fall on the heat around us – it was a beautiful smell of rain on warm earth, it was almost as though we could smell the relief of the scorched dirt. We finished off our mint chocolates and made our way into Christchurch, drenched but happy.

It is a good memory.