Category: Lake Dunstan Trail

There is no explanation.

We have often experienced that when you travel a new route for just the second time in reverse, the distance covered seems to be a lot quicker time wise.

Anyone else share the same?

That was our new days Dunstan Trail anticipation heading back from Alexandra to Cromwell, on the bikes.

Until the weather gods decided to huff a gusty head on wind into our faces.

The first nine kms to Clyde were along the Otago Rail Trail which is virtually straight.  It was the warm-up.  Even the hundreds of rabbits infesting neighbouring hinterlands were perched low to the ground for contour line cover.  Laughing with squinted eyes.

Stopping at Clyde for an eggs and bacon our breakfast diet, the napkin taking off disappeared from the direction ridden, to become an added feature on the Clyde to Alex terrain.  There was only so many times one could lick the plate procrastinating what was the inevitable.  Toughen the fk up, get on the bike seat and get on with it.

Into it.

The Clyde Bridge with its magnificent structure above the Clutha Rivers was the crossing point of no return, before we hung a right, grinded up the dam slope and then into the gale.  Damn white caps on the lake were in their hundreds too.  A never-ending escort.

Mates from the Thirsty Thursday crew were doing the ride in the opposite direction to us – Cromwell to Clyde.  We knew there would be a nose rub reunion somewhere on the trail.  The first three riders of their group didn’t even recognise us as they flew passed at pace.  With the wind up their jacksies.  Possibly because we had our helmets down looking at the trail gravel for aerodynamics.  We did connect with the remainder of the group and seeing fellow bikers out there doing it lifted our spirits.

It was the adrenalin shot booster to keep going after a group photo was taken.  Another stop was taken at a winery near Bannockburn where we sheltered under a heaving willow tree to eat our lunch – leftover lamb shank meat portion sandwiches and watching trail blazers arrive and depart at a gate that had to be negotiated after a little zig-zag ascent.   They were going with the wind too.

There were moments where the gusts nearly brought us to a standstill. The worst of it was actually along the trail on the northern side of Cromwell’s Lake edge where counterbalancing it meant the bike at nearly a 45° angle.

Unclipping cleats and dismounting after arriving back at the third-bedroom again above the 45^th Parallel concluded the ride.  It had taken us longer today than yesterday for sure.  Meeting and greeting a new caravan neighbour, they were to ride the trail themselves today however, the tour company advised against it due to the wind conditions.  Pfft!

Made us smile and gave us some solace that we had knocked the bastard off because of the hurricane.  And before the forecasted change in the weather for it to become overcast and rain.

The other positive when doing a route for a second time in reverse, are the things you don’t notice going in the opposite direction.  We were certainly not disappointed in the days riding, wind, grime, dust, dirt and all.

Hopefully enough to motivate you to tick it the Dunstan Trail off – whether novice, intermediate or experienced outdoorsy type.

In either direction.

With the wind.  Or not.

The liquid volume consumed the night before didn’t deter the anticipated excitement of spending bums on a bike seat ticking off the Lake Dunstan Trail.

It links the townships of Cromwell and Clyde which was the direction we headed after securing the third-bedroom for a night of emptiness.

The fascinating landscapes so characteristic of Central Otago was reshaped from the pioneer days of panning for gold, and then again when the lake was formed. The 55 km of views, just never-ending spectacular.

At the Clyde end of the trail is New Zealand’s third largest hydro-dam, the Clyde Dam. This was one of the ‘’Think Big” projects driven by the Muldoon led Government to diversify the economy and drive growth.  Construction started in 1977, the first power was generated in 1992.

Could have done with a plug in during a daunting hump ascending the Cairnmuir Ladder and its 6-degree gradient.  Except, we don’t ride e-bikes.  While the bodies still can, we still ride good old fashioned traditional man-powered frames.  Or in BClaire’s case, woman powered.

Switchbacks gave little relief from the grind so when the brow was reached, we dismantled for a well earnt rest and the bonus, a selfie at the trails highest point trig marker. 

Elevated platforms jut out from cliff rockfaces on either side of the marker along the trail, so there was some navigation to manoeuvre around on-coming bike traffic.  And the traffic included a heap of older generationals. Mostly on e-bikes.  The ones going in our direction left us sucking up their gravel dust.  Pfft, damn old people entitlement, oh!  Nah, It was inspiring to see and gave us some comfort to dream that we too would have many a day left to rotate the pedal into the nearing death years.

When the dam itself came into view, a second wind got us over and down except we didn’t stop at Clyde, we had to continue on for a further 12 kms following the river track on the southern side of the mighty Clutha River / Mata-Aua River, all the way onto Alexandra. It’s where we had booked a motel for the night, thus allowing us to carry only a change of clothes and our toothbrushes.

An early night beckoned after a local pub meal and hydration top up.  A few marginal aches and pains from weariness.  Notwithstanding, the mind was in focus for the next day was going to be a repeat of this day.

Riding back the Lake Dunstan Trail in reverse.

How hard could that be with experience now under our arses?

Unless …

The 45th parallel south is a circle of latitude that is 45° south of the Earth’s equator.

It is the line that marks the theoretical halfway point between the equator and the South Pole.

Unbeknown to us, we crossed it as we arrived at Cromwell after driving the third-bedroom south from Christchurch.  A short vacation with the only agenda item, cycle the Dunstan Trail.

The traditional Fairlie pie stop was above the 45^th parallel, some ways back.  A must on anyone’s diet menu.  Or not.

Cromwell is 119 kilometres from the sea, the farthest from the sea anywhere in New Zealand.  And is the township that mothers the man-made Lake Dunstan.

Finding a slice of dirt to park up the third-bedroom had us switch off the motor at a NZMCA park for subscription campers – whether campervan, caravan or fifth wheelers.  It was also on the opposite side of the lake having had to point the nose in the opposite direction and furthermore, north of the 45^th parallel.

Usual action list once the key is switched off is to place the door mate at the base of the step, turn on the gas for hot water, pop the top off a beverage, plonk ourselves down in the u-shape seating configuration and perv.  Sus out the neighbours and judge.

Wow, that’s a flash set up or OMG, how cool is that.  Left, right and partially directly in front.

It kind of decides who we should meet, greet and then introduce ourselves to be invited to join the camp conversation after an initial “I’m so and so…” and “cheers”.  For as long as bodies start to disappear to hibernate back to their own rigs for the night.

Now, you know I’m kidding about the judging bit.  You just can’t tell a book by its cover.  Not knowing neither that it was the calm before the storm!

The neighbours to the right had a wagon circle already with fellow nomads and so we thought it polite to invite ourselves.  One beer for me, and a glass of vino for BClaire would be our limit, knowing on the morrow, we had to bike the 55-60 odd kms of the Dunstan Trail.

To Alexandra.

There is no explanation as to how fellow beings can come together and just gel.  As if you were long lost mates catching up and therefore, banter, talk bullshit, laugh, sing and give philosophy opinion.

Three cans of beer and a bottle of shiraz for me; and a bottle of sav blanc for BClaire later … we were making up our bed in the u-shape of the third-bedroom where we had sat earlier, in complete darkness.

Luckily, on the left side of the mid-night hour.  But still above the 45^th parallel.

Which once the bodies were horizontal, had us giggling that we had to cross it again before we even started the true Dunstan Trail south.

Day one, yep!