Day 11: Fairlie

Today’s plan was to ride deep into the Southern Alps up the Godley River valley. Before that plan was executed however we needed food and so we headed into Tekapo to spend more money. My order at the first cafe was complex. Scrambled eggs on toast and a flat white please. “ Sorry we don’t do scrambled egg”. Ok I’ll have fried then thanks. “ Oh, and we don’t do coffee until 9 am”. I spat on the floor and stormed out. I’m planning to burn down the whole of Tekapo but that little spot is where the first match goes. 

Off we went up Lilybank road to the top of the lake. It’s typical South Island gravel and a nice way to start the day tracking up the Eastern side of Lake Tekapo with the high mountains coming closer. Eventually you end up above the lake and then it’s business time. To get to the Godley you have to cross the Macauley river which is a decent braided river and is continuously changing. Initially we thought it would be straight forward but then realised that all the braids had pretty much coalesced at the far end of the plain into a strong flowing channel. Eventually by tracking up stream we were able to find a crossing point and make our way over to Lilybank station and then beyond that up the Godley. Things went smoothly for at least 5 minutes until we intersected a deep and fast flowing choices the Godley river that was not possible to cross. We did the usual thing that is done in this kind of situation which is muck around and ride in circles, at one point ending up in somebody’s back country camp site, till we had satisfied ourselves if the the thing that was bleedingly obvious.  We were not crossing. So back to the confluence of the Godley and Macauley rivers and on to plan B, another attempt at the track up the Macauley river that defeated us a year ago. Today luck and Bernie were on our side and after multiple river crossings and riding over endless rock gardens we made our way to Macauley hut, 18km uo the valley. We were quite delighted with ourselves as it was not easy with tricky navigation due to a track that changes with each flood, tricky and physical riding and for myself, my own phobia of drowning my bike in the middle of nowhere. There was a couple of ladies at the hut who had ridden thier horses up which must be tough on those spindly legs and round rocks but the horses seemed happy. Bernie and Dave Lear speak horse and the one in particular seemed to fall in love with Bernie. After some refreshments where Bernie was able to watch us drink coffee we headed back down the valley. 

Now I do believe I mentioned tricky navigation. The gps has a useful feature, should you choose to use it, which will show you the track you have ridden. Foreseeing potential problems I suggested to my mates we back track using this feature which quite handily was displayed on my screen. My 3 mates responded to this suggestion in a manner that might lead you to believe I was speaking Martian and proceeded to fuck off in 3 different directions. Dave Mac, with the confidence of the completely lost, made a ferocious pace to god knows where. When I tried to suggest he think he just cancelled me so I let him go. He is still out there now. Well he isn’t but he deserves to be. 

The other 2 are slightly better thinkers but remember the bar is low. After milling around aimlessly for a bit, Bernie, who is a surveyor and therefore knows a bit about maps and finding your way around had a great idea and suggested we use the back track option on the gps. Give me strength. 

So 3 of us head off in the right direction, not easy as we had to make our way across rough ground to pick up the perfectly good track we could have followed from the hut. Dave Mac was now so far in the distance he was actually beginning to understand Martian. He eventually met up with us several kilometres down the river. Happily we made our way downstream enjoying the majestic country and the technical riding. At one point there is a channel of 4wd double track that has filled with murky water. One has to follow it for maybe 20 metres. I hate things like that as you can’t see the bottom. Instantly as I entered it I hit a rock and bounced into the bank and someone ended up jammed against the bank with one leg behind like Tinkerbell, all the while trying not to tip into the primordial bog. It was untidy indeed    . After a bit of untangling and a complete lack of constructive support from my friends(ex) we headed in out. Another crossing of the Macauley which I was thankful for as I was covered in yuck from the thighs down. 

When we exited the river bed into the car park we stopped for a reset before heading back towards the main road. Bernie put his side stand down. Actually he didn’t. When he tried it fell off. Please refer to the prologue and Bernie’s maintenance program. Luckily he didn’t lose it in the middle of a river as the side stand has a little sensor that will cut the motor if you try to ride with it down. This is obviously a safety feature but with no side there is no sensor and no forward motion. Bernie was able to exercise his trail side mechanical skills and with 400 zip ties his bike us good as new for the next year or 2. 

Off to Fairlie where we sampled Fairlie pies. World famous and although I’m not a pie guy I could become one. We headed off to the motel to do some, and this will surprise you, badly needed laundry and Bernie went on a tour of Fairlie and found a replacement bolt for his side stand. It’s almost as good as new. Almost. It should get him home but I plan to ride behind him from now on to pick up all the other bits and pieces that fall off his bike. 

Another great day.