Saturday 28 January 2017

Day 7: Turangi to Tongariro

Bike Day 7
Trip Day 11
30.77 miles

I woke with a fuzzy head. Surely I had been poisoned? There was no way I should feel this shitty after such a small amount of beer. Maybe I'm getting old. Maybe I'm losing my touch. Maybe I'm just getting fitter? Whatever the reason, it was time to shake it off and get the lycra back on. It was time to head West and catch a train.

I had decided quite early in the trip that I was going to "skip" part of the North Island. I was only in NZ for 6 weeks and at the speed of a bicycle, and with so many distractions en route, I was going to struggle to make the miles. I was desperate to get to the South Island because, in my own mind at least, this is where the real adventure cycling would lie. Planning my route through the North Island had seemed straight forward and through the most beautiful (and therefore most popular) parts but my ideas had run out when it came to south of Tongariro. From what I could see there was a great distance between Tongariro and Wellington that did not contain anything of any particular interest to me. Now perhaps in hindsight (and perhaps with many kiwis shouting at me) I would learn that lower North Island has a lot to offer. But for me, I wanted to get to the South Island. This is why I decided to take the train.

I've always been a big fan of train travel and the route from Auckland to Wellington is considered one of the mlst beautiful in the world. I couldn't miss the opportunity to ride the route and cut out a big section. However today was a Sunday morning and my train had been booked for Monday afternoon. Today would be a short journey west from Turangi back into the national park where I would camp overnight. Simple.

It was raining. A vicious and intentionally spiteful downpour. I had rode my luck with the weather up to this point and had been rewarded with some beautifully sunny and still weather. Today would be my first day riding in the wet. Ah well, a good time to test my waterproofs I guess. I bid farewell to my bunk mates and packed up the bike. Bright red waterproof jacket and waterproof trousers on. I looked like a complete tool but at least I might be dry. I set off in the downpour and hoped I would not regret the decision to head off at this time.

I would have one final flirtation with my old nemesis, State Highway 1, south before cutting along a quieter road westbound essentially dissecting the national park. State Highway 1 was predictably busy, treating me with heavy traffic and speeding trucks, but fortunately I was off of it in no time at all. The road cut south and I knew I wouldn't see it again. Thank God. The rain continued to get heavy as I jumped onto the far quieter road. I really enjoyed taking the westbound road, the simplicity of having a road all to yourself filled me with a joy I had not yet felt. I felt for the first time that I had an entire route all to myself.

The route through the National Park was full of hills. I had done hills, none that had caused me too much of a problem so far, but these were slow-climbing. At first you didn't feel the pain in your legs because of the shallow climb but after a while the slow burn came through and my quads were screaming for a rest. At times I was climbing for a solid 20 minutes. Low gear. Headphones in. Concentrate. "Nearly there" I lied to myself.

After an hour or so the road through the National Park ended and I was dumped onto a busier road that would take me straight through to the campsite. By this point I was drenched. The incessant downpour had soaked me through and I was in need of a break. I found the entrance to a deserted holiday camp and took shelter in the forecourt of an abandoned gas station. I noticed a few camper vans had been parked here, their owners sitting comfortably inside and waiting for the rain to stop. If I had the nerve I would have knocked on the door and ask if I could come in. But alas, stood alone; soaked to the bone.

I layered up, got myself something to eat, toweled myself down and downed a bottle of Man the Hell Up. I only had 35 miles to do today and I would soon be at campsite where I could attempt to dry off. I pushed on and was soon out of the woods and into the flat fields of the national park. Through the fog I could make out the base and initial rise of the great Mount Ruapehu in the distance. I'd already seen it the day before so didn't feel too bad that I couldn't get a perfect photo from this vantage point. Before long I had arrived at the campsite.

The Tongariro Lodge was in a beautiful spot smack bang in the middle of the national park. On a clear day you could get a great view of all three of the great mountain peaks in the middle distance. However at this time I just wanted to get my tent up and my feet dried off. My eyes lit up when I noticed the lodge had a restaurant, although I was quickly brought back down to earth when I was told the kitchen was closed. Bad times.

I grabbed the bike and wheeled over to the camping areas. The whole of the campsite was soaked through and there were great lakes of standing water threatening to flood into my tent. I picked the best spot I could and prayed that the rain would stop. As I was erecting my shelter I was approached by an excited young chap who announced he was also a cycle tourist and that he was making a similar trek to mine. He asked me many questions about my route, my kit and about where I was from. We promised to chat more once the tents were installed and we were both indoors.

I made my way into the kitchen area of the campsite and allowed myself a luxurious dinner of baked beans and baguette. Looking at the other campers, I became temporarily jealous of their kitchen gadgets and full range of cooking kit although I quickly contemplated how I might transport it all on a bike... My friend joined me for dinner and we got chatting to a young Dutch couple about our adventures. It was amazing; everybody here was away for such a long time. I almost felt embarrassed to say that I had planned to take my bike across the country in only 6 weeks. Again, it did not seem like enough time.

After a good chat and some improvised desert we all made our way to the lodge lounge for and quick game of pool before retiring for the night. As we made our way out we had noticed that the sky had cleared and made way for a rather dramatic scene of a sunset across the mountain range. It was absolutely stunning and reminded me of where I was and fortunate I was to be here. It was also a reminder that in actuality I had not come a great deal in two days. I ignored that thought and stared longingly at the view from that lounge.

As I settled to sleep in my surprisingly dry tent, I considered my first wet day on the bike. My spirit had not been dampened. I had enjoyed the ride. But I had been soaked through and felt ill prepared for what the rest of the trip might hold. I had only done 30 miles of the trip and had ended up in that state. I'd have to up my game if I were to survive the inevitable soaking I'd received in the south island. I'd have to pick up some way of waterproofing my feet when I got to Wellington.

Which was fortunate, because I would be in Wellington tomorrow.

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