Cycling the epic Alps to Ocean trail

The riding that day and the next was comfortable, along smooth paths following canals of the Waitaki Hydro Scheme, meandering the shoreline of pretty lakes, crossing tussock land, all under a wide, open sky frilled at the edge by mountain ranges.

Those ranges – the Southern Alps – created the ultimate backdrop, reflecting in lake surfaces, catching clouds amongst the peaks, gathering mist about its feet; now and then, unexpectedly, it pulled in sharp blasts of sunlight to better define its bone structure.

Along the shore of Lake Pukaki we stopped many, many times for photos, trying to capture the breathtaking beauty of distant Aoraki/Mount Cook.

The tour provided an afternoon visit to Aoraki. Driving up the far side of Lake Pukaki, we ventured past moody, earth-coloured foothills. All around, sinewy mountains loomed above swathes of scree, patches of green-grey matagouri, trees blown low.  

We walked to a view of the Tasman Glacier, sharing a path busy with other tourists. At the village we explore the excellent DOC information centre, free to visit and rich in historic, geographic, scientific and cultural material.

Early on day three we rode out of Twizel along the Ōhau canal, pulled along by the promise of a glorious day. The sky shone. Once over a small dam, we dropped down a short rocky trail to Lake Ōhau then rode a thin trail through low growth, the lake glittery to our right and Ben Ōhau brightening in the morning light.

Adventure South’s bus was waiting for us at a lakeside car park with morning tea arranged on a trestle complete with gingham tablecloth. Fresh coffee, cake, biscuits, fruit, more than enough, as usual. Topped up, we rode on, following the edge of the lake – all of us well used to our bikes by then, speeding along with confidence, calling up bursts of battery juice when hilly. 

Soup and toasties provided the perfect fuel at Ōhau Lodge, enjoyed at a shared table with plenty of convivial chat and laughter – some of it nervous, because: the next bit.

From there, the A2O got gnarly – up and over the Tarnbrae saddle, a 12km steady climb to 900 metres on rough, rocky surface – apparently worth it for views across the Mackenzie Country. I say apparently because I opted not to do it. Six of us had our bikes packed onto the trailer and were transported to Quailburn at the end of the Tarnbrae section. This was one of many things I appreciated about this tour: the ability to skip a difficult leg.

From Quailburn we raced to Ōmarama, through more golden wide-open expanses, dusty and then smooth roads and easy rolling trails. 

Those who rode over the saddle found it challenging, even the youngest and most experienced. I was happy to have chosen not to push my limits, especially as I knew the next day’s riding was also going to be tough.

Every day was magic but if I had to choose a favourite, it would be this day. We started with a gentle warmup ride from Ōmarama to Sailors Cutting on the shore of Lake Benmore, on an utterly beautiful morning.

Through the campground, around the lake and then up we rode, along a skinny path high above the lake, slopes falling away to the water below. Stunning scenery distracted me from the fact it was, in part, a bit scary. Battery power helped immensely, as I could maintain the momentum needed to get around steep switchbacks.  

Look where you want to go; that’s good advice for switchbacks and for life. Find your line, follow it, keep going. 

We followed the river to Aviemore Dam and lunch at a picnic spot where a few of us braved a quick, invigorating swim. It was a flying, fun ride to Kurow, up and down through farmland, to stay at the beautifully restored boutique hotel, Waitaki Braids Lodge, which exuded a welcoming vibe and loads of character exemplified by the little dog in residence.

Mist rose on another calm day as we left Kurow for Windsor; the hills caught the sun in sharp, bright lines. Below the last of the eight power houses in the hydro scheme, the Waitaki River rushed, energetic and full. Through farmland and wetlands, we stopped to view Māori rock drawings, then pulled up in Duntroon for a cuppa, refuelling for the final effort. Up through crazy-shaped rock territory then on and on, up and up; it would have been hard work without a battery. At the top of a valley Pete, bless him, was waiting with lunch.

Next was a tunnel. It was curved, so initially pitch dark and fearsome – but then a slight turn revealed the proverbial light. Much like life. Proceed with focus, have courage, all will be well. 

On to Windsor and the surprise of the day: Burnside Homestead for the night. My room had two cupboards, one hiding the toilet, one hiding the shower. In an elegant conservatory with views across a tree-filled garden, our host had left warm scones and makings for tea and coffee.

A long table decorated with gladioli and roses was the setting for our farewell feast. Then we retired to the billiard room for an exchange of thanks, delivered with sincerity.

From Burnside we rode past slow, sleepy cows to Ōamaru, riding through the botanical gardens to the waterfront.

As we drove back to Christchurch, we crossed the braided end of the Waitaki River. I realised as I looked west toward its source that it had also travelled from the Alps to the ocean but, for the river, it was all downhill.