Traversing Canterbury

After waking up at eight, James and I have a leisurely morning start. Today’s ride will take us across the Canterbury plains and finish in Springfield at the foothill of the Southern Alps.

The road quickly takes us out of Christchurch. After turning off the main highway onto the Old West Coast Road, shops and suburban houses on either side of the road are replaced by pine trees, hiding behind which are estates of the wealthy, by the looks of it. With an overcast sky and the scent of pine blowing in the air, the setting has quite an English character to it. Gradually, the pine trees disappear, sheep and cattle farms have now become the major scenery. With very little traffic and perfectly flat, this road is great for cycling.

At around lunch time, we stop at a cherry farm to buy some expensive but freshly picked and delicious cherries. Sitting down at the whitewashed wrought iron table and chairs under a tree at the farm’s garden, we brew some tea and have avocado and tuna sandwiches for lunch. The whole setting is just a little too prim and proper for two guys like us.

James setting up for lunch

For the rest of the afternoon, the scenery remains the same: farms for as far as the eye can see. The quietness is occasionally punctuated by cars passing, sheep bleeting, and cows mooing.

Freshly-shorn sheep having a staring contest with me

The last ten kilometers of the ride is gently ascending – only a gain of two hundred meters in elevation – so gentle is the gradient that it is visually imperceptible. But as a sign of my legs being out of shape, my legs are burning with every stroke of the ride. Soon my thighs feel as if they are dissolving in the lactic acid built-up in them. Finally, with my last ounce of strength, I follow James to the campground just outside of the town of Springfield.

The tiny Sheffield has a 24-hour petrol station

James hanging out by the toilets

Summer days in the South Island are long. The sun comes up at six a.m. but does not set until 9:30 p.m. We cook dinner, shower, and get ready for bed. Both James and I are sleeping in hammocks. They are not the mesh hammocks found everywhere in the tropic islands. Instead, they are especially made for camping. When you get into it, you are completely enclosed inside. A rain fly over it keeps you dry in case it rains.

Our hammocks all set up

Cooking dinner

View of the mountains from the campground

In the middle of the night, I wake up and find that I have become a popsicle. Because the hammock is set up off the ground, cold air from below can suck your body heat away quite efficiently. Not prepared for nights this cold, I get up and put on most of my clothes. Still, the part of my body in contact with the bottom of the hammock is cold even when the rest of me is warm enough. I drift in and out of consciousness, constantly shifting to prevent my toes from falling off or my shoulder or back from turning into ice blocks.

At six o’clock, the sun is rising. I give up trying to sleep and get up. James has had a similarly awful night. We will have to find a way to solve this problem.

Stats:

Distance: 65.1 km
Time: 3h 20m
Max speed: 33.7 kmph
Average speed: 19.5 kmph

NZ Bound

Wow, the last month went by so fast, it felt like a week. At first I thought, “What am I going to do for a month in Fresno? I’m going to be bored out of my mind!” As it turned out, between spending time with family, visiting friends, and getting ready for my cycling trip to New Zealand, there was hardly time to get bored.

A week was taken up by going to Washington, DC, where I had lived for seven years and still have friends around. The hectic life and horrendous traffic of DC really made me appreciate the much more laid-back lifestyle of Brisbane. Give me an overgrown country town any day; I can do without the constant rush to the next place.

The rest of the time, I spent catching up with my extended family, high school friends who are now high power lawyers and movers and shakers in the tech world, and playing with my nephew and watching him grow. After learning to crawl the day before Thanksgiving, my nephew can now walk a few steps while holding on to the edge of the couch. I am sure in no time he is going to be able to walk on his own and start to be a menace to the whole family because then, the whole house will have to be childproofed.

There is always a level of sadness whenever I leave my family; it is especially so this time. Maybe it is because I am now thirty-one and no longer have to assert my independence. Maybe when your age starts with the number “3,” things start to change: life becomes less about rebellion and exploration and pushing boundaries and family becomes important again.

With this thought in mind, I gave my mother and sister a hug and boarded the flight from Los Angeles to Auckland, New Zealand. On my way back to Australia, I am first going to have a little adventure in New Zealand. My good mate James and I are going to ride out bicycles around the South Island for eighteen days. Not a bad way to ring in the New Year and have one last hurrah before putting our noses to the grindstone again for our final year of medical school.

I sleep fitfully on the plane through the twelve-hour flight. Upon landing, I reassure the customs officer that I am not intending to stay in New Zealand illegally and head to the carousel for my luggage. I am relieved to find my bike box stacked neatly with other oversized bags. After the fiasco with my bike on my way to California a month earlier, I really don’t want it lost again. I collect my bags and head to the domestic terminal for my connecting flight to Christchurch in the South Island.

View of the Southern Alps from the air

The bus drops me off at Cathedral Square where I am supposed to meet up with James. As I am more than an hour early, I start to take my bike out of the box and assemble it under the shadows of the magnificent cathedral. An hour later, James walks up. Awesome! Everything is working according to plans.

Playing chess in front of the Christchurch Cathedral

We find accommodation for the night at a caravan park. We will sleep in luxury – in beds – because camping is in store for the next seventeen days.