Paekākākiri to Wellington

In the familiar pattern it was a cold morning as I packed away the tent and headed south on my final ride in New Zealand. No one stirred around me. I stopped for a breakfast bagel and flat white but was soon onto a cycle route that would hopefully help me navigate my hilly ride into the capital city, Wellington.

I often write how frustrating cycle paths are: they’re mainly designed with safety and separation from motor traffic in mind even if they’re indirect, poorly maintained or hilly. I suppose if you’re popping to the shops on your ‘sit up and beg’ bike it really doesn’t matter but if you’re covering greater distances they’re a drag. To me they seem like a difficult and unfriendly way of getting to your destination. The ride was a difficult meandering route although it had some highlights with water vistas.

I progressed using a combination of the route on my Garmin cycle navigation computer and Google Maps on my iPhone. It didn’t always work out and memorably I was directed up one very steep hill into a cul-de-sac! It took me a while to stop laughing as I caught my breath. Google Maps latterly came up with footpath solutions but stairs are never easy on a heavy bicycle!

So it was by a wobbly route I eventually got to the Shepherd’s Arms where my old Manchester Poly pal and kind host, Paul, would collect me. 

The plan was that as he lived in the surrounding hills he’d load my bike and luggage into the car and we’d drive up to his house. I got off to a terrible start as he pulled up beside me at the entrance to the pub car park; I didn’t realise it was him and I bellowed at the driver/Paul not to drive into me! I felt very stupid when I realised who it was. However, this was the end of my ride.

Overall it had been as hard as I expected but the campsites were good, the people I met often interesting and helpful, the northern scenery sumptuous and the weather quite agreeable for cycling ie. cool and mainly dry but often mixed during the day with rain, grey skies with periods of intense sun and heat. It was clear that the west coast was not a prime destination for tourists and that any tourist cyclists, if any, stuck to gravel trails, which were well documented and followed. I had ultimately ridden lots of gravel and not particularly struggled with my 28mm wide tyres but they were not optimal. 

In the main I had pedalled through farming communities (dairy or sheep) with few settlements and all had exhibited the usual characteristics. Namely, traffic simply concentrating on getting from ‘A to B’ and putting their foot down on these big distances, whistling by quite close to me was never compromised and inevitably my concentration on keeping the bike in a straight line and ensuring I was to the left of the white line at the side of the road was a priority. I saw scattered houses and a few villages but never larger towns except where I might have camped. It was usually a poor and unsophisticated selection of food with much of it, I expect, starting the day being defrosted from a freezer. The roads that were originally horse or agricultural paths had progressed to have tarmac on them with little subsequent thought about gradients. That folks is New Zealand.

Back at Paul’s fabulous abode the beer was opened and I luxuriated in the thought that I wouldn’t be riding my bike for the next few days and my legs could recover.

The nature of Wellington is that it is a place surrounded by hills and after I’d showered we drove up to the top of one and took in the city below. A few days in comfort and good company awaited.