2000 Biking New Zealand

Day 10, 17 December 2000, Sunday
Ross – Punakaiki; 119.8km @ 18kph, Punakaiki Beach Hostel, $44

We awoke to the crowing of a cock. And breakfasted again on muesli. And hit the road encountering quite hilly terrain initially, but then uninspiring scenery (flatter with less features all around, but quick cycling, good weather, no wind) until well beyond Hokitika. We also crossed several long single-lane bridges some of which carried train tracks. Before each of these a very graphic road sign depicting a cyclist falling on his head because his wheel is caught in the rail track furrow warned of the additional dangers of cycling on these narrow bridges!

At times we were so close to the ocean the smell of the Tasman Sea was strong on the breeze – particularly on the long bridge into Hokitika on which we could also feel mist-gentle sea spray. Hokitika is the first sizeable town we have encountered on the west cost. Its tourist industry is based on Greenstone carving, as well as bone and wood carving. Quite attractive with a Boer War memorial to fallen soldiers prominent in the centre of town and lots of tourist shops open (the greenstone carving is either cheap and nasty or very beautiful and very expensive – nothing tempted me to part with my money) and restaurants serving inter alia yummy croissants on which we mid-morning-snacked.

Greenstone had been carved by the Maori for centuries, though less so in the last century. The local industry was revived over a beer after a huge slab of greenstone was discovered by a man out hunting deer. Once Haast Pass was opened in 1965, bringing with it a flood of tourists, the industry boomed.

Back on the thankfully windless road north to Kumara Junction where the road splits – the right hand fork going over the apparently-fabulous Arthur’s Pass to Christchurch, the left taking us northwards still along the coast. Soon after the Junction and 27km from Hokitika, we stopped for another break at the Tramway Tavern where we sat in the sunshine in the garden by the river and refuelled our engines. We sat under a tree from which a bizarre variety of goods dripped having been flung into the branches from below. Named the Georie Tree (for some inexplicable reason), the practise of throwing old T-shirts and mechanical oddments etc into the tree apparently began spontaneously in 1998 to the amusement, I suspect, of drunken locals. When I walked into the pub to place our order the proprietor and her three guests made a snide aside and then were friendly – silly behaviour for adults. Just as we were leaving a family preparing for a pub party that night arrived. They asked whence we were headed and the woman said it was very hilly after Greymouth and that she would not care for it. Her more optimistic husband said the hills were only up half the time (!) – a useless truism.

So back on the road on a still hot day with bell birds again punctuating the air with their creaky-swing calls. With the Tasman quite often close enough for us to feel its spray on our hot bodies; with broken headlands like exclamations offshore; with numerous tough climbs in the afternoon heat; with great views back and forward along the coast. And with tall sparsely-topped palms to left and right. New Zealand is the southernmost limit for palms.

Through attractive Greymouth (a big town) to Barrytown where we rested again in a pub only just opened that week. And then onward to Punakaiki feeling progressively more tired. Outside Greymouth we encountered a young couple hitch hiking. The young man stuck out his thumb as I passed him and I said he was welcome to a lift provided he pedalled – an offer he laughingly declined. A little later I saw them go by in a vehicle – giving me a friendly wave and a smile. I caught up with them again later standing in splendid isolation on the roadside. When Charl passed them a little later, they apparently yelled that he was eight minutes behind me! Later still they again passed us – this time for the last time. While I was photographing left-behind headlands, Charl behind me on the road was conversing with a Benoni family enjoying their holiday in New Zealand.

Just after the long climb into Punakaiki we parked our bikes and went to see the famous Pancake Rocks and blowholes – unfortunately having missed the 4pm high tide which makes the blowholes more spectacular. But enjoyed our half hour there anyway. 35 million years ago sea creatures died here and their shells and skeletons formed limestone deposits. Between the layers of limestone, layers of mudstone (compacted minerals) were deposited. Over time the mudstone washed out emphasising the limestone layers and creating the effect of a pancake stack. Numerous stacks now sit well out of the water, some straight some tumbled; waves gushing up into hollows between them. Could have spent more time here.

Down the other side of the hill then to our green and yellow hostel on the beach – very casual and laid-back. There to barefoot-stroll briefly down to the sea, to shower and sit in the hottub overlooking the ocean and drink our cognac, and to dress in our ever-so-cute room. After which we enjoyed an excellent pub meal (seafood platter for Charl, pasta for me) in the one-block-away and extremely popular pub. We shared our table with a couple from the east coast on a kayaking weekend. He is an engineer and the two of them have lived in Botswana and elsewhere. They were telling us how great it was to get ‘free’ healthcare in New Zealand – and were a little put out when we said no country could afford to provide free healthcare to its rich. Pleasant, nonetheless.

We’ve had a tough day, and have a tougher one ahead of us!